


Clockwork

by mandathegreat



Series: Clockwork Series [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Cardverse, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Princes & Princesses, Royalty, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 39,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandathegreat/pseuds/mandathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why couldn’t people be like stars and clocks? Always moving along in their paths, always ticking away every second like they should be. People are different. They can’t let the world be as it should, they have to interfere with nature. </p><p>Arthur supposed that the gods up in the sky were like clock-makers. They made you, the clock, and let you tick away, as you should. But life has a way of making you tick differently, against the beat.</p><p>Arthur felt his heart beating with Alfred’s. They were ticking right on schedule. </p><p>USUK Cardverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm just moving this on over to AO3 from ff.net. I did edit some of the chapters, mostly to add in some more mentions of magic.

_There exists a land not unlike our own, though unmapped in meters or yards._

_It has different people, no one thing alone, yes; this is the land of the cards._

_In the place where things are not as they seem,_

_Where magic and mages are not just for dreams,_

_And men can have children or even be queen-_

_Yes, this is the place that is sung by the bards._

_For in this land, with heroes of old,_

_Of monsters and princes and of stories told,_

_There are four Kingdoms, each one of them fine,_

_It is my task to acquaint them with thine._

_First is the Hearts, tradition abound,_

_For music and art and religion renound,_

_Ruled by the three families for thousands of years,_

_For their strength is teamwork, and teamwork perseveres._

_Then Diamonds, rich Diamonds, full of plenty and more,_

_The world has no doubt of the luxury they store,_

_Neutral and peace loving, with fortunes galore,_

_A Diamond is pretty, that’s what it’s used for._

_Next comes the Clubs, with a bit of a lie,_

_Their sigil is green, but white goes past the eye,_

_Frozen and stoic, as much as they try,_

_Clubs’ Kingdom is cold, and the people- they cry._

_And last but not least is the Kingdom of Spades,_

_Known for their power, their growth and their blades,_

_With harbors and magic that lies in the shades,_

_And royals who must lie in the beds they have made._

_And I hope you won’t mind much if I move to steer,_

_To our last beloved kingdom, for our story lies here._

_On a stormy day of a thousand years past,_

_The kingdom was established, and some say too fast,_

_The pirate kings ruled with a ruthless hand,_

_And the kingdom- it flourished- it had to expand._

_And soon these pirates were pirates no more,_

_Just stuffy old nobles who shut all their doors,_

_To Kingdoms and any hope for success,_

_Their tyrannical rule had wounded their duress._

_And when as the kingdom continued to expand,_

_Things began to get out of hand,_

_Anger fermented, began to spread,_

_And gave the Royal Tyrants something to dread._

_The kingdom rebelled, held up fists and swords,_

_Some of them even nobles and lords,_

_Soon the Pirate King was captured, and his lady wife,_

_He gave up his kingdom, she gave up her life._

_And on the following morning a new king was crowned,_

_With ideas of freedom, his kingdom he found,_

_Waiting to welcome him with arms open wide,_

_And see him give consequences to the royal who cried._

_But the new King, was merciful, respected and kind,_

_He spared the imprisoned; let them free from their binds,_

_He let them back to their rainy shore, gave them permission,_

_And he had only just one condition:_

_If they changed their sigil, gave up skull and crossbones,_

_They could live as lords of England, and all British zones,_

_If never again was the pirate flag flown,_

_They could live in peace with King Joshua Jones._

_So they gave up their pirates and took on the thunderbolt,_

_To remind them of their history of the occult._

_For the Kirklands were Magic before they were brute,_

_The first Storm Mage known was of the Kirkland root._

_And as history turned into stories on a page,_

_The feud between families lessened with age,_

_And two-hundred years later a prince and a Mage,_

_Just might be falling in love, right before war is waged._

_And that is the story, set in the time,_

_Where the shaky peace was breaking between cobalt and lime._

_Where true love hits you hard, worse then the sword,_

_When marriages are arranged between all kinds of lords._

_When princes are charming and when words cut like blades._

_This is the story of the Kingdom of Spades._


	2. Chapter One

Wherever Arthur Kirkland went, rain seemed to follow him.  It was true that his family had roots in storm magic-- _everyone_ knew that. But Arthur, he was something special.

Some commoners who lived in the river village outside of their castle had taken to calling him a witch who harbors the magic of darkness. Arthur knew that it wasn’t true, but the youngest Kirkland noble feared the rage of his father if their name was besmirched. Lord Kirkland was very concerned of how others viewed their family. History guaranteed that.

But Arthur was the youngest. He wasn’t going to inherit any lands, take any grand glory.

He was just a begetter, anyway.

Lord Kirkland didn’t like that, either. Arthur didn’t understand that one—being a begetter, that is, able to conceive a child with another man, was a natural thing. Maybe Arthur was thinking too much. Maybe Lord Kirkland just wanted to protect his youngest son, and not letting him associate him with some “noble” sons of lords was for his own good.

But at sixteen, who doesn’t think their father is out to ruin their lives?

Arthur knew that his life was privileged. Everyone wanted the life that he was guaranteed at birth. He had an opportunity that people were never going to get. So he took advantage of it. He studied hard, and learned fast how to be a noble—eat, sleep, and breathe nobility. He was a perfect student. Politics, he had learned pretty quickly, was more about appearance than anything else.

And then there was, of course, the magic. The stormy magic that seemed to flow through his veins all the time. If he felt agitated, lightning would burst from the sky, and thunder would boom. He would create static in the air and his hair would rise right up. That was why it was so messy. Naturally, more and more of his studies were magical ones. He trained and learned until the castle master of magics couldn’t think of another thing to teach him. Arthur thought maybe he could use it for something, but again, his father disapproved of that.

Really, all he could hope for was an arranged marriage with someone who wouldn’t hurt him.

…

Antonio Carriedo had been his best friend and his worst enemy. The man was the Mage of Fire, all heat and excitement and quick to anger. He and Arthur became close at a Mage tournament; where the 6 Mages of Earth, Fire, Air, Wind, Light, and Storm battled each other for an audience. It was a great sight to see. Antonio won, with fists ablaze, and Arthur just had to speak to someone who was so celebrated for magic.

Arthur snuck out to see him, and when they talked, Arthur realized that Antonio Carriedo was not much older than himself. Eighteen, only two years older than him, and he was a celebrated member of the most elite group of people in the world. The best of his element, for the rest of his life.

Antonio and Arthur became fast friends. The Hearts-born boy was lonely from travelling so much, and Arthur just wanted to travel. They were so different, and yet, it was so easy to talk to each other. Arthur admired Antonio, and every time he came to visit him, he thought that he was falling in love with him a little more. He let himself be wooed a little, had a bit too much to drink, and before he knew it himself, he was in Antonio’s bed and he let the Mage make love to him.

But after it was done…

“So, _Arturo_ …”

Arthur didn’t really know what to say. It was… enjoyable, but there was no spark.

“Um…”

Antonio looked like he understood. “Nothing, _si_?”

“Yes. I’m sorr—"

“Oh, don’t apologize, amigo. Nothing for me, too.”

Maybe they had just fallen for the idea of each other. Arthur wanted to be like Antonio, see more than rainy London on its muddy river. Antonio just wanted to go back to Hearts and see his Italian friend, the brother of the Jack. The more that Arthur thought about it, he realized that Antonio might already be in love without knowing it.

They had agreed to be friends, although Antonio felt guilty for taking Arthur’s virginity. Arthur didn’t mind.

So it came to a surprise to everyone when they were arranged to be married.

Arthur was furious. It rained for a week. His mother tried to calm him down, but he remained upset. His father had to yell at him countless times—he was an adult now, and part of being an adult is doing things you don’t want to do. He tried to give the “learn to love one another” speech, but Arnold Kirkland wasn’t known for his speech. He was just known for his war, serving as the King’s Hand in times of unrest. He had been going to the Capitol more and more, something which concerned everyone.

Arthur stopped trying to fight his engagement. He would have to live as an unhappy, bride, but at least Antonio would never hurt him. He would take care of him. It wasn’t perfect, but it would be okay.

Antonio was a bit upset. Arthur understood why. Antonio was in love with his little Italian, and now, he would never get to be with him. Arthur could sympathize. If everyone had a true love out in the world, Arthur would never find his.

The wedding was to be held on the 223rd day of the year, when the leaves were in bloom, and the heat was abounding with moisture. Perfect day for a thunderstorm, Arthur thought, but his mother had threatened his well being if he did that.

During the Spades’ marriage ceremony, you are allowed a time to pray to the gods in silence. Arthur prayed and wished not for his marriage to be ended. Not for death, or for revenge.

_I wish to be happy. I believe that I deserve that much._

At that exact moment, all of the Mages of the Four Kingdoms burst through the doors, to the surprise of the one at the alter.

“Please, please. Stop this wedding. Now.” The Mage of Light took the lead.

Lord Kirkland stood. “What is the meaning of this? You come into _my_ home, disturb _my_ family and—“

“Please my lord. We have very important news. The Mage of Storms has just passed away. I saw it in the Sun. The gods have chosen your son to be the next Mage of Storms.”

Arthur could have died right there. Mage of Storms?

“That’s not possible. I haven’t even been to University for this. I don’t know that much, I’m sixteen, I—“

“The gods chose you, and they did for a reason. It is not your current training, or your status and family. It is the power inside of you that makes you worthy.”

The old man shrugged off his wise look for a moment. “And between me and you, kid, you’re the best. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He put back on his powerful presence. “No Mage can wed another. The result of such a union would be unthinkable. Unspeakable. This wedding must stop. And you, Arthur Kirkland, need to come to the Capital of Spades right now.”

He was pulled to the Capital abruptly, by some strange magic he had yet to experience. There he was, in the temple of the gods, and then they were standing on the steps of the Spades Palace.

“I don’t understand Mage Marcus, where are we going?”

The Mage of Light smiled warmly at him. “Your title needs to be officially given in front of your King.”

As he was ushered up the stairs and into the hall, he did not realize that he was entering a new chapter in his life. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is 16.  
> Alfred is 15. 
> 
> Just so you know, Alfred's about a year and a half younger than Arthur in this 'verse.

Arthur was pulled inside the biggest structure he had ever seen, a place that he had only entered as a small boy. The Spades Palace seemed to rise out of the ground, all white marble and golden sconces and blue and purple gemstones. The emblem of the Spades Kingdom was everywhere in black and gold, and tapestries of every noble family lay inside. He saw his own thunderbolt next to the fish of the Longbows and the Dragon of the Wangs. Yao Wang was the current Jack of Spades, diplomatic advisor extraordinaire. He saw the star of the Daynes, the broken chains of the Freedmans, and the eagle of the American Jones’. The Jones family on the throne had taken on the Spades Emblem as their own long ago. 

The tapestries continued down the hall, and Arthur was reminded of many years of studies. He could easily name them all. He was led into the Grand Hall, where the royal family sat, expecting his arrival.

Arthur reached the thrones and took a deep bow, as was customary for even high lords, like those in his family.

“Arthur Kirkland. The last time I saw you, you barely reached my knee. You have your father’s look. Your mother’s eyes, though. Is she well?”

King Frederick Jones had a kind timbre to his voice, which put him at ease. He didn’t expect to be nervous, but speaking to royalty was something you needed to get used to.

“Yes, Your Majesty. She is doing just fine. Thank you for asking.”

The King and his wife smiled. That was a good sign.

“Look at that. Perfect manners. You handled your etiquette classes well, little Lord Kirkland.” The Queen of Spades was radiant, still a work of art even at the age of 46. Jeyne Freedman was the perfect example of a Queen.

“Thank You, Your Highness.”

The King made a motion to start the ceremony. He paused. “Where is my son?”

At the drop of a hat, something muddy and fast made its way to the throne room.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I totally forgot to be here!”

Oh. It was the Prince.

“Your Majesty.” Arthur bowed again.

The King sighed. “Alfred, go to your room and get washed. We will talk about this later.”

The muddy prince ran off.

“You’ll have to excuse my son. He will not be participating in the ceremony.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. “That’s… fine, Your Grace.”

The King laughed.

He looked as the Mages surrounded him, in colorful robes, each one a different color. As the oldest participant, the Mage of Light led the ceremony.

“In the name of our seven gods, and in front of your royal family, you are hereby anointed as the Mage of Storms. The brotherhood welcomes you with open arms as you join us in our quest to aid the world of its wrongs. Kneel, as only a man, and rise in power.”

As he stood, Arthur was presented with a purple cloak, the color of his element. The Mage of Light placed a ring on his finger, pure diamond with an amethyst thunderbolt. It had to be magic, because it fit like a glove.

“Wear this ring as a token to your servitude, and it shall stay on your right hand until your dying day. And so it shall be.”

Arthur repeated the vow. “And so it shall be.”

The Mage of light smiled. “Now I present to the royal family of Spades, Arthur Kirkland, Mage of Storms.”

 ...

 

Later that day, Arthur wandered through the Palace. He thought he knew where he was going, but soon enough, he was lost. He went through corridor after corridor, but where he was, there were no guards. No one to point him in the right direction. 

He heard screaming. Angry, loud screaming that could only belong to one voice. The King always seemed nice and cordial, but there was no mistaking his angry shouts.

Arthur snuck up towards the door, which was slightly ajar. He realized that the King must have slammed it so hard that it didn’t shut, and now he could see into the door.

“—against your responsibilities! You are my only son! Could you even _try_ to act like a prince?”

The King was yelling at his son. Prince Alfred looked like his father, but he was young, even younger than Arthur. He hadn’t grown into his height, and his glasses were crooked on his face. Arthur felt bad; he shouldn’t be watching this, this thing doesn’t happen to royalty.

“First they tell me that you’re almost blind, and then you spend all your time running away from your job! A King is only allowed one child, one prince. You know this and I do too. But if I’m stuck with such an ungrateful bastard as you, I won’t rest until you’re anything but yourself. You will be beaten and bruised into your duties. Honestly, how were you raised?”

The room was silent, and Arthur saw the look of determination in the prince’s eyes.

“Well you wouldn’t know. You didn’t raise me at all. Remember, you left that to one of the maids you were fucking.”

The King grabbed his son and shoved him hard at his desk. That was sure to leave a bruise, and Prince Alfred’s face scrunched up in pain. He was turned around and slapped in the face.

“The next time you speak like that to me, your punishment will be so much worse. Now get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you again until you are worth something.”

Oh no. The prince was going to come out of the door in less than 10 seconds. Arthur panicked. If he ran, Prince Alfred would see him and know he saw. But if he stayed—

Too late.

The Prince shut the door behind him. He turned around and the two boys stood frozen, looking at each other.

The Prince was holding his side, and had blood on his face from where the hit had caused his glasses to cut him. He had tears in his eyes that he was trying to hold back, and but the rest of his expression spoke volumes. This had happened before.

Before Arthur could say or do anything, the Prince bolted, running as fast as he could in pain. Arthur tried to follow, but he wasn’t as fast. It was the wind that gave away his location. A huge tapestry was swinging against empty air where a wall should have been.

Behind it was a passageway that not many knew about, Arthur suspected. But maybe, if you were a little boy, all alone and afraid of your father, you would discover it. He pushed behind the heavy fabric and found himself at the bottom of a winding staircase. Up he went, quiet as he could be, and when he reached the top, he saw the Prince.

This was a secret place for him, obviously. This tall tower had huge windows, and some sort of invention standing up. It had a long barrel, with glass in the front. It looked like a spyglass, but much bigger. It was pointed up at the stars.

The rest of the room was covered papers, with writing and music and drawings of things that Arthur didn’t know about. There were books about things that he had never seen.

The prince was there, looking through his contraption. He had cleaned off the blood, but he must still be in pain. He looked at Arthur, finally noticing his presence.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Actually, you don’t want to talk about it. If you do, you will lose a tongue, anyways.”

He wasn’t playing fair. The capital accent that always seemed so goofy in shows and satires was completely serious. People always said that this prince was carefree and happy. Arthur didn’t know. He understood, though. Everyone needed a time where they could be themselves, and not their titles. Here, Prince Alfred was just Alfred, and he could be whatever he wanted. Arthur indulged him for a while.

“What’s that? I’ve never seen one before.”

“It’s a telescope. Someone made it from the America County, and they gave it to us as a gift. Father doesn’t have time for this kind of thing, so he put it away. I took it; he’ll never notice it’s gone. It lets you look at the stars.”

“Interesting.

Everything goes back to father. The King. There was so much that Arthur thought he knew.

“Look, Your High-“

“Alfred. My name is Alfred.”

“Alfred. I’m not going to say anything. Not to anyone. Just, tell me, are you okay?”

The tall boy sighed. “I’ll be fine.” He pulled up his shirt. He had a nasty bruise. It looked awful. “I’ve had worse.”

“Let me—“

“No. It’s okay.”

“Just, tell me why—“

“Isn’t it obvious? He thinks I’m not good enough. He feels guilty and angry and he doesn’t know what to do so he takes it out on me. He says I’m stupid, just because I think a little different. I like math and science and stupid things—there’s no place for that in politics. I’m useless, like they all say.”

“No.”

“What?” He looked confused.

“No. That’s not true, and you know it. You should be proud of that stuff. I don’t know much about science, and I’m awful at math. You obviously have a way with words. What’s useless about that?”

“Father doesn’t want any of that. He wanted a warrior, a knight. That’s not me. I’m not exactly hero material.”

“So, give him what he wants. Try it, and never lose sight of you. No matter what you learn, you’ll never forget that.”

“I can’t see without glasses. How do you wear glasses and fight?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“The master-at-arms won’t teach me with glasses.”

Arthur was getting frustrated. His hair stood up a bit. “Then you march over to him and say, I’m the bloody prince of Spades and you will teach me how to use this sword!”

Thunder struck.

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. That happens sometimes.”

The Prince smiled for the first time. “You’re a strange little guy. But you make some sense.”

“I’m not little!” Thunder.

“Yes you are.”

“Look, I’ve got to go, before you get shocked. But just one thing. You don’t have to like something to be good at it. Just try. You never know, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He bowed down low and said, “’Till the next time we meet, be well.”

Arthur snorted.

“I was trying to be chivalrous!”

“Work on it.”

He went out the door, and down the stairs, to take his leave with the Mages. And on the front stairs of the Palace, he could almost feel the gaze of a Prince that was trying to please everyone but himself.


	4. Chapter Three

The other Mages guided Arthur into the forest. Antonio told him once that your first days of being a Mage were confusing. You were away from your home, and it could be years until you returned. Being a Mage wasn’t a full time job—it was more of a “come at our beck and call” kind of situation. If there was an emergency, he would need to leave all of his responsibilities, no matter what they were, and join his brothers. This could prove very tricky. Arthur was born in Spades, and Spades loyal he would stay. However, if Spades did something terrible, something that required the justice of the gods, he would need to put aside his loyalties. It was much more manageable now, with the peace pact between Spades, Hearts, and Diamonds. The Jack of Hearts, Feliciano Vargas, was the Mage of Water, and he seemed to balance himself just fine.

For some, it wasn’t that easy. Arthur knew that he would be visiting Hearts and Diamonds very soon. But the Clubs Kingdom had cast away magic long ago. The Mages weren’t welcome there.

Arthur had read about it in a modern history book. About twenty years ago, the King of Spades, Nicolai Braginski, went mad. He blamed the suffering of his people on his magic users, instead of considering his repressive laws and policies. He forced the migration of thousands of magical beings out of Clubs to seek refuge in the other Kingdoms. Some of them even small children. Toris Laurinatis, the Mage of Earth, and some of his best friends had to relocate to Spades at the young age of 7. At 26, he has little memory of his former home, or his parents, who were killed in the purge.

Arthur met all of his brothers. Mage Marcus, the Mage of Light was entering his twilight years. His long beard reminded him of great Wizards of Legend, like Merlin. He was considered one of the most magical and powerful beings in the world, and is respected as such.

Jack Feliciano Vargas, the Mage of Water, was of the three families of Hearts. Every 50 years, the families Vargas, Beilshmidt, and Honda traded places on the throne. At current, a Ludwig Beilshmidt held the King spot, while Kiku Honda held the role of queen. In Hearts, these roles were not roles of marriage. In fact, there were many a rumor of Ludwig and Feliciano guarding a secret love.

Mage Rafael was from Diamond Kingdom. The Mage of Air was in his forties, and ran the Magic University of Diamonds, one of the most honored institutions of its time. Like many Diamond Born, he had a taste for fine wine, which he seemed to always have with him, even if it had to fly beside him.

Mage Toris was a good man. Born in the snow of Clubs, he lost one of his hands to the frost. He had crafted a new one of stone, which he used with ease. Arthur didn’t want to press him about his past, but the Clubsman was willing to talk and was surprisingly kind.

Of course, Arthur knew Antonio. In his head, he reminded himself that he knew him quite well, indeed. Arthur couldn’t believe that it had been more than a year since they first met. In a few weeks, Arthur would be seventeen, and he could only imagine what people would say.

_There’s that Arthur Kirkland, his first marriage destroyed before he was even seventeen._

_HE’s the new Mage? Is this a joke?_

In reality, Arthur was scared. Here were all these men who did great things. Good people. People who deserved respect and fame. Arthur didn’t think he deserved anything.

They arrived at the Mages home in Spades. Hidden away, this place was crafted for Mages to study, to learn, and to train.

They gave Arthur clothes that were enchanted to be magic-proof, and they fit to his skin like a glove. He reached the training grounds to see the other Mages similarly dressed.

“Before we begin, we would like to see what you can do.”

There was a course set up in front of them, all stone and wood and earth.

“Don’t worry about destroying it, _amigo_ —I burned it to the ground last time.”

“I need to get frustrated. Need to think.”

The Mage of Earth replied. “I’m sure you can get some inspiration.”

Arthur thought of all the things in his life. He thought back to his childhood, where his brothers used to pull his hair and throw things at him. The sky grew dark. He thought to his father, whose judgment loomed over him like rainstorms. He could hear the cracking of static in the air, feel it raise his hair. He could hear the thunder beginning to rumble.

He pictured his father standing over him and beating him, like he saw the King do to poor Alfred. In fact, he thought of every father that ever told his son that he wasn’t good enough.

The lightning came all at once. Not from him directly, but all around him, dropping from the sky in deadly bolts. He saw the Mage of Air jump frantically out of the way. He set the course ablaze, air filled with the signature purple smoke of storm magic.

It was nice to let it all out, feel all the power at his hands instead of holding back. He could have gone on forever, until the Mage of Light cause day to break again. The sun outshone his storms, and Arthur was forced to calm down.

“You see, Arthur? You have more power than you will ever be able to understand.”

Arthur looked at the course in front of him. It was on fire, slowly being controlled by air and water. Parts of it had been obliterated completely.

“Now that you have trained alone, it is time for combat.”

….

Arthur trained for a few weeks, where the Mages traveled between Spades, Hearts, and Diamonds. When the Mages were not working, Arthur would go home, just to show his family how well he was doing. People began to hear more and more things about him, the mysterious Mage of Storms who could fry you in the blink of an eye. Arthur was doing very well, and he finally felt good about himself. Before he knew it, he was seventeen, and then eighteen, finally old enough to erase the doubts of some and win them to his side. His father embraced his newfound popularity.

And along with the travelling and the tournaments came the suitors. There were even a few that Arthur almost maintained relationships with. Really, he maintained a life of success and one-night lovers that treated him right. And Arthur made sure the news wasn’t getting back to his father. If he was going to have fun in his life now, he wouldn’t let it ruin his life later.

On the two-year anniversary of his becoming a Mage, he won his first tournament.

It was the last tournament of the Mage tour, and it was held in the Spades Capital. The Mages battled each other with the Palace looming in the background. Arthur was awarded a medal for his honorable fight, as well as the champion title for the next four years.

After the Mage Tour was over, Arthur went back to the England County. He had every intention of assisting at the University there, but his father had different plans.

A celebration was held for him in London, where his father made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman of the England County, my duty as Hand of the King has increased to a full time position. I will be staying at the Palace to aid the King for the near future. My son Scott will be acting as Lord of England in my stead. My youngest son will be accompanying me.”

“What?” Arthur’s response went unheard.

As the party finished, Arthur approached his father.

“Yes, Arthur. You will be going to court. A boy of your age should be exposed to politics and other lords. It will be a good place for you.”

_A good place for me to find a husband, more like._

But on the next morning, Arthur and his father set off on a carriage that would bring them to the Spades Palace. It was a full day’s ride, and Arthur slowly drifted off to sleep.

In his dreams, he remembered the last time he stayed in the Palace, although brief a time it was. He remembered a scared boy with a will to change, and when he woke, Arthur wondered just what he would find when they arrived.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is 18.  
> Alfred is 17.

The Spades Palace was in its finest regalia. Arthur had heard once that royals put up all of their decorations when war is imminent. They wish to show the opposing side how well they are doing. Arthur asked his father if war was really going to start, but got a non-answer. “Wars take time” wasn’t a yes or a no.

His father was dressed in Kirkland colors, purple and green, as to represent their house in this time of distress. Arthur chose to do the same, but he left out the green. Only his father could get away with Club colors in the Capital. They pulled up to the elaborate gates of the Palace, and entered shortly after.

All of this was tradition—the greeting by the guards at the gates, the footmen announcing their name. What was different was King Frederick himself, standing at the top of the stairs. He greeted them cordially.

“Lord Kirkland, Mage Arthur. It is so good to see you. How have you been?”

Lord Kirkland had a grimace on his face. That was his smile. “Well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Fine, fine. Enough with this formality. It has been months, and I should like to catch up with my hand. Arthur, the servants are talking your things to a room on the fourth floor. You should find it easy enough. Dinner is at sunset.”

Arthur couldn’t even get a word in. Maybe that was for the better. He felt uncomfortable around the “good” King, knowing one of his dirty secrets. He traveled up to his floor, and was pointed in the right direction.

His belongings were already there, all packed away nicely. Palace servants worked so fast. With nothing to do, Arthur looked around his new home.

The walls were the perfect marble of the Palace—white, flecked with blue. The floors had plush carpeting from the China County, and the furniture had delicate designs crafted in its wood. He had a large, four-poster bed with silk sheets and plush pillows. He lay on it for a while, and thought he could stay there forever.

_So, this is how royalty lives._

Arthur had just about drifted off to sleep, when he heard a knock at his new oak doors.

_Knock! Knock!_

“Hmm..?” He got up and looked through his looking glass.

_Well, whoever it is, they’re not seeing me pretty._

The mystery knocker grew impatient.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

“Alright!” He marched to the door and flung it open. “What do you wan-“

“Good afternoon, Arthur. I missed you, too.”

_Gods in Heaven._

Prince Alfred Jones was standing at his door. And two years had definitely treated him well. He had been taller than Arthur before—now he stood a head taller. He probably outgrew his father, at his height. Where he was skin and bones before he was now filled out and muscular. He had obviously picked up the sword. The messy clothes and crooked glasses that Arthur remembered were now spotless and straight.

Alfred stood up straight and confident, and the determined gleam in his blue eyes shone twice as bright. He looked good. Arthur didn’t know if it would make him happy to hear it, but Alfred looked like a Prince.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He was absolutely overflowing with confidence. It was very attractive on him.

Not that Arthur found him attractive. Arthur was just trying to think of something to say to him.

“You’ve… changed.”

Alfred looked irritated for one second and then was all smiles. “Well, changed me wants to show you around. But if you were sleeping—“

“Wait here.” He shut the door. Arthur changed his clothes—not because he wanted to impress anyone, especially certain Princes outside his door. He fixed his hair—only so he wouldn’t feel like a mess. He washed his face—only to get travel dust off of it.

Alfred had a sly grin on his face. “Well look at that—you’ve changed too.”

So, helplessly in denial, and not at all excited, he followed the Prince out into the hallway. Ever so kind, Alfred took his arm and led him through the palace.

Alfred took the long way through all of his favorite places. They talked the whole way around. It was like meeting a friend for the first time in years, except they had only known each other for a very short time in the past. Alfred ended his tour outside, in the pretty rose gardens that his mother loved so much.

They were sitting on a bench, hidden away amongst the trees.

“—and so I said, ‘that’d better be a sword.’”

“Oh gods. That’s not funny.”

“Yes it is. Everyone likes that one.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

“Yeah, you are.” Alfred looked sad again. “No offense or anything, but I thought you would take this ‘new me’ stuff differently.”

_What?_

“I mean, I’m still _me._ It’s just that everyone treats me so differently because I _look_ better.”

Oh. So he was a little selfish. “Are you kidding me? Princes can look like whatever they want. People respond to attitude, and confidence. You seemed to have some of that, unless it was all an act.”

“No. I am confident. It’s just that—“ He looked around to check if they were truly alone. “Look, he never did it again after that. That was the last time he—I mean that he stopped—you know. But he still doesn’t acknowledge that I’ve done anything right. I can feel everyone’s approval but his.”

Arthur sighed. Even royals needed friends. “Look, my father has never said an encouraging or positive thing about me. How he managed that in a feast of my honor, I’ll never know.”

Alfred laughed. “Ok, I get it. I’m different now. And if I’m happy with it, that’s all that matters.”

“Right. See, you get it.”

A big smile formed on the Prince’s face, showing off straight, white teeth.

“It’s nice to have you around. You’re like a little moral compass. Always pointing me in the right direction.”

“Well thank yo- Hey! I’m not little!” Thunder struck, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yes you are.”

Ignoring the feeling that they had had this conversation before, Arthur and the Prince walked back into the palace for dinner, just barely escaping the downpour that Arthur created.

…

The dinner table was long and fully populated with guests of the crown. Arthur ended up seated next to Alfred, and they aimlessly chatted throughout the meal. When it was over, Alfred walked him back to his room.

Alfred came inside of his chambers and sat down on the comfortable couch. “Say, Arthur, how long are you and your father staying here?”

Arthur shrugged. “Indefinitely, until this Clubs business is all sorted out.”

“Oh, good. It’s nice having someone around who’s easy.”

“What?!”

“Easy to talk to! I didn’t mean—geez.”

They looked at each other for a second, and then burst out laughing.

Arthur tried to hold a smile back. For the sake of propriety. “Nothing about this conversation is okay.”

Alfred just looked at him, grinning. “I know. That’s why it’s so great.”

He stood up. “Arthur, I’m going to leave now. Try not to miss me too much.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in response. “I won’t, believe me.”

He was pulled to his feet, just so Alfred could bow once again. “Till next time, farewell.”

The prince glanced up, expecting a response.

“Better. Definitely better.”

Alfred turned on his heel, and walked out the doors. Arthur had to sit down. He had just spent a day with the new and improved Prince of Spades. And he was so happy with what he saw. Maybe what he feared the most was that the Alfred he would meet would be so completely different from the one he met two years past. The one that he had felt compelled to help. But no, this Alfred was still a good person. He changed for his Kingdom and for himself, but all for the better.

But even as Alfred remained himself, Arthur couldn’t help but feel compelled to the Prince. Suave and sophisticated, and chivalrous to boot. He was interesting, strong, and smart, and just so nice to look at. Arthur was happy that he had a friend at the Palace, but he was worried of the feelings that seemed to be rising up from the underground.

His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that, somewhere, the Prince was looking at the stars.


	6. Chapter Five

Arthur definitely didn’t have feelings for Prince Alfred. Nope. That wasn’t part of the plan. He certainly never caught himself thinking of those blue, _blue_ eyes, or of his funny little cowlick, and he _never_ looked at the defined muscles in his arms and back. Never.

Because that would be ridiculous. Having any sort of feelings for a Prince was like searching for buried treasure—you’re never going to get what you want. Arthur appreciated fairytales as much as the next person, but this was real life. Princes learn not to have feelings, and if they do, they don’t act on them. Many were like this—it wasn’t so hard to get used to an arranged marriage if it was your only option.

But just because he could never reach the end result didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy himself. He spent a lot of time with Alfred, and the two adjusted to friendship well. There weren’t many people Alfred’s age in the castle, and he relished in Arthur’s company. Arthur becoming friends with the prince was apparently a great political move as well, so Lord Kirkland was surprisingly happy with his son.

Arthur was content with friendship. He had to be. But he couldn’t help noticing some very more-than-friendly behavior going on between himself and Alfred. It was like they couldn’t control it. Of course that’s how Arthur felt. He had no idea how the Prince really felt.

Arthur had taken to reading outside by the Spade Tree, a gorgeous tree that flowered spade shaped petals. There was a bench that he could lie on and have time to himself. It was also on the hill above the training grounds where Alfred practiced sword fighting every day, but that was surely just a coincidence. He had been reading a great story and not-so-innocently glancing down the hill, when Alfred caught his eye.

The Prince waved at him, to which Arthur waved back. Alfred turned towards him to stretch out a bit, showing off some muscle in the process. Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow at that. He got a smug little grin and a wink in return. Alfred went back to training, but every so often, he looked back at Arthur.

And Arthur didn’t get any reading done at all.

…

The leaves were starting to fall off of the trees at the Palace. They turned the rich colors of autumn, turning the landscape picture-perfect. The hot summer faded slowly into cool nights and windy days.

Arthur and Alfred were walking through the gardens again. Alfred didn’t necessary like them, but Arthur did, and he was all too willing to spend time with him. They ended up on Arthur’s favorite bench at sunset. The romantic potential was far too ironic to ignore, but for their own sakes, they did.

As night dawned they huddled closer together, for it was cold and neither had brought a jacket with them. It was for Arthur really—Alfred was warm, and he desperately wanted the Prince to hug him, just so he could get rid of the chill. They didn’t want to go inside just yet.

Recently, there had been a lot of tension in the Spades Palace. Some spies had confirmed that Clubs was gathering a special army for invading Spades. The problem? No one knew when or how they would attack.

Alfred finally lost patience and asked his father just why the Clubs Kingdom wanted to invade. Arthur was shocked at the answer he received. During the magical purging of Clubs twenty-two years ago, Spades was the biggest supporter of the refugees. Clubs took offense to that, and there has been a grudge between Kingdoms ever since. Tensions had rose between them to the fact that Clubs failed to sign the Peace Pact that the other kingdoms had signed about ten years ago. And now, the Clubs King was blaming Spades for the magical protests and uprisings in its lands. The Mad King of Clubs was acting, possibly very soon.

This had, of course led to disagreement between the King and his Hand. King Frederick wanted to invade Clubs before Clubs attacked. Lord Kirkland knew the end result of that. When you invade Clubs, you freeze or you die. Here, Clubs would be at a disadvantage. They didn’t know the land. They had been fighting over it with the Jack as a monitor day and night.

Leaving a confused Prince and an even more confused Mage outside, freezing on a bench.

Arthur didn’t want to talk about it—the fight meant that he might have to leave, and the thought of going home to England County seemed outrageous right now. He was happier here at court than he ever thought he would be.

“It’s cold.” Alfred looked at him with surprise.

“It’s not that cold out.”

“Well, not for you I suppose. Some of us who aren’t fat don’t generate a lot of heat.”

“Hey!” Alfred gave him a light smack on the arm.

“Don’t hit me!”

“I would never hit mi’lady.”

“I. Am. Not. A. Lady.” That really wasn’t funny. Arthur’s hair frizzed up from the static.

“Alright, alright. I surrender. I was just kidding!”

“Well, I don’t appreciate it!”

Alfred sighed. “Okay. Look at your cheeks. You must be all warmed up now.”

Arthur silently cursed his blush. “Not really.”

“Well, here.” Alfred pulled him closer and put his arm around his shoulders. “Better?”

Arthur could have died then and there. He gave up resisting, just for one day, and got comfortable leaning on the Prince. As soon as he leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder, his hair, charged up to be full of static from his magic, shocked the poor prince. Alfred jumped up in his seat, smiled, and gestured for Arthur to try again. And when he was cuddled successfully against the prince, he smiled.

“Yes, much better.”

…

By the time winter had hit the Spades Kingdom, Arthur had it bad. Snow fell all around until it was knee deep, and the children at court where wild. They ran around in the snow, tossing snowballs and making snow-goddesses and packing together a snow-King.

Arthur and Alfred, of course, were too old for such horseplay, but Alfred loved being with children, so he stopped to say hello. He was greeted with snowballs. Alfred played and laughed with those children for a while, and Arthur was content to watch him. The children loved him. Most of their parents loved him, too. Alfred had probably charmed his way through the entire court at this point.

His thoughts were interrupted with a snowball in the face. Arthur shrieked in surprise and was brought back to memories of his brothers pelting him with snow. It was enough to bring back some of the child in him and chase after the fleeing Prince. They had ended up away from the children, near Arthur’s tree, when Arthur caught his friend and tackled him to the ground. Alfred hit the snow with an ”oof” and Arthur landed flush on top of him.

It was a pretty strange situation. Here were two friends, who had been resisting their obvious tension, lying on top of one another in the snow. If either of them moved just a bit, they could have kissed. Arthur could feel it coming, from the serious expression on Alfred’s face. It would have been so perfect, that kiss in the snow.

But they both panicked. Alfred jumped back, sending Arthur face-down in the snow. The both stood up and dusted of the cold from their coats.

“I just remembered that thing I have to do in the—bye Arthur.” He ran away before Arthur could say anything.

Arthur just walked back to the Palace. He wanted to cozy up with a good book to clear his head.

…

They both tried to pretend that nothing had happened between them. At first they were cold to each other, but as winter thawed out, so did they. It was simply too hard to stay away. As spring began to bloom, Arthur had realized that he had spent almost a whole year in the company of his Prince. He would be turning nineteen very shortly. And in that year, so much had happened. He made some friends, learned new things, and for the first time, he allowed himself to admit that he had fallen in love.

That just might be a problem.


	7. Chapter Six

It was nearing the end of the fourth month. The people in China called it the month of the bull. In England, it was the month of rain. Arthur didn’t think it was very special. In fact, he hated the month of April. It rained quite a bit, which pleased the magic in him, but still, he didn’t like April.

He would be turning nineteen in less than a week. With every year, Arthur’s chances of that arranged marriage grew larger and larger. That was something he wasn’t looking forward to.

It was getting really hard to be around Alfred. They were just so in love that any intelligent person would have taken notice. The Prince made excuses to avoid Arthur and Arthur did the same. They were trying to avoid pain, but doing so just created frustration. For the first time in quite a while, Arthur felt the need to take care of his own desire, which was quite a strong reaction for someone he had never even kissed.

And the tension in the Capital increased more and more everyday.

…

It was the night before his nineteenth birthday that something changed. He didn’t know what happened—maybe Alfred ran out of patience.

The Prince burst through his doors while Arthur had been reading a book. It was sort of a surprise to see him; they hadn’t had anymore contact than a few desperate glances in the corridors of the palace the previous week.

“Hi.” He looked a little shaken.

“Hello. How have you been?”

“Alright. I just wanted to talk to you for a while.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well—look, Arthur. I can’t do this. And when I say I can’t, I mean that I’m not supposed to act like this. I’m supposed to wait for my match just like you, and if I’m unhappy, I have to deal with it. That’s what’s expected of me. I have to be perfect.”

“Al, I—“

“Wait! What I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of it. I don’t want to be perfect all the time. I want to enjoy myself for a little while.”

Arthur stood up. “What are you trying to say?”

“You know.”

“Not really.” They were not-so-subconsciously getting closer together.

“I want to be with you. I want to kiss you.” Alfred had backed him up against the cool, hard walls.

“I want you.” He whispered it softly in Arthur’s ear.

He looked up at Alfred and their lips finally, _finally,_ met.

It wasn’t just a peck. For some reason, it felt like they didn’t have time for that. Arthur clung onto Alfred like he was the sole item keeping him alive in the world. Alfred was a good kisser, something that Arthur didn’t expect from his earlier behavior. Well, he supposed that _love_ was discouraged; not _lust._

About the same time that Arthur became aware of Alfred’s tongue in his mouth, he also realized that he had been lifted up to Alfred’s height against the wall.

He just gave into temptation and wrapped his legs around the Prince’s waist. As their lips crashed together, he could hear the thunder clapping loud against the sky. Every kiss was, for lack of a better word, _electric._

When they broke apart for air, Alfred went right for his neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there.

“A-ah. You’re going to… leave a mark.” Arthur was panting a bit—Alfred had quite literally taken his breath away.

“And?” He was grinning in between his kisses, Arthur could feel it.

“Someone will see.”

“Fine.” Alfred set him on his feet again and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on Arthur’s shirt. He focused his attention on the spot where neck met shoulder.

Arthur wrenched his head back up so they could kiss again. His mind was reeling with thoughts that he simply couldn’t control. A small voice in the back of his head said that they were going too far, too fast, but Arthur couldn’t care less. This is what they had both been longing for. He was too in love to take it slow.

He lifted Alfred’s shirt over his head, and sighed at the loss of contact when it passed over his head. Alfred used it as an opportunity to unbutton the rest of Arthur’s shirt, and he shivered as Arthur ran his hands across his chest and his defined stomach. Arthur led his traveling fingers to the buttons and ties of his pants.

“Arthur…” The way Alfred said his name was almost like a plea for mercy. His stormy eyes said lots of unspoken things.

“Come with me.” Oh, double entendres. Arthur loved them so.

He walked back through his chambers until he reached the area that his bed was in. He could hear Alfred close behind, and he made sure to put a little extra swish in his step, just for show.

When he reached his bedroom, he turned towards his prince. Alfred had no qualms to taking the lead. He backed Arthur up against and then onto his bed. As Arthur was laid down, he crawled on top of the begetter and kissed him slowly. They were both starting to get very hard, and _very_ impatient.

Alfred got Arthur naked first, but he was disrobed shortly after. They spent some more time rutting their hips together and kissing with a desperate force.

Alfred pulled away. “Do you have—“

“Yes. One second.” Arthur reluctantly left the bed to find the vial of oil that made things a lot less painful. It was placed in his suitcase on the ground, so he had to swallow his pride and bend over to get it, which received a whistle from his eager soon-to-be lover.

He stood up, vial in hand. “Oh, shut up.”

The second he returned to his bed, Alfred pushed him down on his hands and knees. Arthur was shocked—it was a bold move for a couple’s first time, but he would allow it for now.

“You okay?” Alfred pushed his legs further apart, so Arthur sunk down to his elbows.

“Yes. Please, Al.”

Arthur could hear the bottle being uncorked as Alfred spread the mixture onto his fingers. He felt one finger slowly circle his entrance, and push in.

He moaned, probably too loud. He couldn’t help it—physically, this was the first time in over a year that something besides his own fingers have entered him. Mentally, this was _Alfred_ , and Arthur could think of nothing better than how the prince was treating him right now.

Alfred moved his finger slowly, and when Arthur loosened up, he added a second one.

Arthur was instinctively pushing back on those long fingers, breathing heavy whenever Alfred came remotely close to his prostate.

“Perfect, Arthur. You’re perfect. So tight. Fuck.”

Alfred rarely swore. But at the prince’s dirty language, a shiver of lust ran down Arthur’s spine.

Alfred must have noticed, because he continued it as he added his third finger.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Arthur? Do you want to come? I can make you come. Right now, even.”

Arthur shook his head. “No. Ngh, want you inside me. Now.”

Alfred took his fingers out, slowly, and Arthur whined, feeling empty. He watched over his shoulder as Alfred slicked up his cock.

Alfred turned him around to lie on his back. He kissed him once, and then pushed in. It was a lot to handle—this was the prince, this was the one he loved, this was too much and not enough.

Alfred was fully inside him, and when Arthur adjusted, he started to move. Slow, at first, but picking up speed at a steady rate. By now, Arthur didn’t have a doubt that Alfred had done this before, but he wasn’t exactly innocent either. He gave an experimental shove of his hips toward Alfred’s and was rewarded with a strike of his prostate.

He cried out again and Alfred angled his hips in that direction to hit it repeatedly. His rhythm increased as Alfred slammed his cock inside of him. He was so deep. Arthur could feel him everywhere—this man was overriding his senses. It was too much. Too good.

“Al, I’m com- I- I-“

“Me too."

Arthur came first, in a flash of white where he finally allowed his body to go slack under Alfred’s. Alfred kept pumping through Arthur’s pleasure, and when Arthur was down from his high, he pushed himself deep, and he came hard inside him.

Alfred fell to Arthur’s right to lie down next to him. Arthur curled into him instantly, not caring at all for the mess between them. He returned Alfred’s kiss whole-heartedly, and let himself be held tightly. This was where he had longed to be for months, for a year. This was so, so right.

And as the storm died down, and he slowly drifted off to sleep, he heard Alfred say exactly what he needed to hear:

“Happy Birthday, Arthur. I love you.”

It was midnight, the beginning of his birthday, and Prince Alfred had given him the best present ever. His heart.


	8. Chapter Seven

That morning was the first morning that Arthur woke up in Alfred’s arms. He felt a little sore from their…togetherness, but he would be fine later on. The night before was so worth the morning’s discomfort.

Alfred was still asleep, and he held onto Arthur tightly. Still, Arthur could see the strong planes of his face and see his soft golden hair. He looked very at peace, smiling even in his slumber. 

It was nice to finally have what you want. Arthur couldn’t resist anymore so he shifted himself upwards to kiss the Prince. He watched as his eyes fluttered open, filled with realization, and kissed Arthur right back. This early morning was like heaven to them—a little place where they could just _be._

“I meant it, you know.” Alfred was whispering in his ear again, like he was telling some big secret.

“Meant what?”

“What I said last night. I meant it. Arthur, I think I love you. No—I _am_ in love with you. I –“

Arthur interrupted him with a kiss. “That’s okay, love. I do believe that I love you too.”

Alfred rolled on top of him to kiss him some more. Eventually, they had to get out of bed. By the time that Alfred had snuck back to his chambers for clean clothes, it was lunchtime.

…

When the pair arrived at the great table for lunch, Arthur’s father stood up.

“Happy Birthday, Arthur. May the gods grant you many more.” The stoic lord was grimacing again, which gave Arthur some hope.

“Birthday, whose birthday?” King Frederick burst into the hall. Everyone stood.

“My son’s, Your Grace.”

“Oh, stop it with the ‘your grace’ nonsense. We fought together, Arnold. And happy birthday, Arthur. How old is he now?”

“Nineteen, Your Majesty.”

“Only nineteen. And you have done so much with your short life. I think a feast is in order, don’t you Arnold?”

“Well I—“

“Of course it is. Any gifts given to Arthur shall be presented at his birthday feast. I’m sure he can wait a while. A month, perhaps? To get everything settled.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” A feast for him, thrown by the King? Not a bad sounding thing.

Arthur’s father stood up. “In honor of your birthday and the upcoming feast, I have an announcement that—“

“No, no Arnold. Save it for the feast.” The King seemed adamant about that.

“Very well.” Lord Kirkland had been holding a letter. He folded it up and walked out the doors.

Arthur and Alfred sat across the table from each other. Their eyes met for the entire meal. They didn’t really speak, and neither dared to touch each other. This affair was a secret, after all.

After lunch, the pair raced back to Alfred’s chambers. The Prince’s chambers were spacious and decorated in the blue of the Spades emblem. Arthur didn’t look at the decorations much—he just went straight to the big canopy bed. Curtains hung down from the poles and were tied shut.

Arthur lay down on the big bed and laughed as Alfred crawled in too.

Alfred went to kiss him again and Arthur obliged. “That’s not what I came here for—I just thought that this would be the most comfortable bed ever.”

Alfred laughed. “It _is_ comfy.”

Arthur’s back was leaned against Alfred’s chest, and when he stretched out, he unconsciously pressed his backside against the younger man’s groin.

“You know, it’s even more comfy if you take your clothes off.”

“Nice try. Maybe later.”

Still, Alfred kissed his hair, his neck and the spot behind his ear.

“Al…”

“Shh… relax, would you?”

“This is too much.”

“I’m making up for lost time.”

“Al, we have all the time in the world.”

Something passed through Alfred’s eyes—he looked at everything but Arthur like he knew something that Arthur didn’t.

“What?”

“I just love you, that’s all.”

Arthur let the prince continue. It was too hard to say no to him, not that Arthur really wanted to say no anyway. Alfred’s hands roamed across his arms, his sides, his ass and his stomach.

Apparently, this reminded Alfred of something. “Moon Tea.”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Did you drink some?”

“Yes, love. Every month.”

“Oh, okay.”

At least Alfred thought about him. Moon Tea was an Oriental trick—tea that prevents conception for a month, or a “moon.” It came in handy in the prevention of noble bastards and secret affairs.

They both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

…

As the Queen prepared for Arthur’s birthday celebration, the Mage spent his days intertwined with the Prince’s.

His days became a montage of magic and books and fretting over wars to come and kisses and longing glances.

His nights were filled with a passion that he could barely understand. Arthur would always end up in one bed or another with the eager Prince and they would have a go at each other.

Whether he was on his back, on top of Alfred, or being fucked on his hands and knees, he still felt so loved in the end. It was all very new and wonderful.

…

Alfred’s cock was in his mouth, as far down his throat as he dared to go. He was on top of his lover. He loved his reactions. Alfred was moaning and grunting all sorts of nasty things—it was hot. When he first felt Alfred’s hands spreading him apart, he stopped sucking on his cock. When he felt Alfred’s tongue poking at his entrance, he melted completely.

If Alfred was good with his hands, he was ten times better with his tongue. He circled around his hole until the ring of muscles gave in, and he plunged it as deep as he could inside of him. Arthur felt that hot, wet tongue slide in him, and he couldn’t bear it. To try and delay his climax a bit, he sucked at the head of Alfred’s neglected length and stroked the rest.

Alfred worked his tongue in and out and started to add fingers to the mix. Arthur wasn’t above begging at that point.

“Please, Al—Oh gods- please. I’ll come soon.”

The prince got out from under him in less than three seconds. He was behind him in an instant and before Arthur could really catch his breath, he was inside him. He didn’t wait for Arthur to adjust—quite frankly they had been fucking so much that he didn’t have to. Alfred railed into Arthur, who after a few thrusts was knocked onto his elbows.

It was too much for Arthur. After just a short while, his climax hit him with unimaginable force. Alfred continued to thrust into his throbbing hole, but pulled out after to let Arthur catch his breath.

Arthur was sated, satisfied to the extreme.

“I’m not done yet.”

“Hmm?”

“Come on, Arthur.”

Arthur sat up in the big bed and saw that Alfred was, indeed, still standing at attention. And looking a little desperate to finish. Arthur was tired, exhausted even, but he loved this man. He would do just about anything to make him happy.

He climbed on top of Alfred, who was sitting against the headboard. He positioned his cock and slowly sunk down on top of it. He felt it impaling him inch by fucking inch, and Alfred tipped his head back in pleasure.

“You’re doing all the work, love.”

Alfred kissed him, hard. “I love you.”

They were thrust back into pleasure.

…

It was time for Arthur’s birthday celebration. He received gifts of innumerable value and worth. People came from all zones and counties just to wish him well. Alfred was by his side the whole time.

Arthur’s father brought everyone to attention to finally make his grand announcement.

“Arthur, my son, I was originally going to make this announcement myself, but I figured I would let it come from the source himself, tonight.

A man stepped out of the crowd. Arthur didn’t know his face, but he was of an age with him, perhaps a little older. He had light brown hair and tanned skin. The star of the Daynes, high lords of the Australia Zone, was emblazoned on his shirt.

“Hello, Mage Arthur. My name is Lord Jack Dayne, of Australia. Pleased to meet you. You were right, Lord Kirkland—we will be a great match.”

He held out a small box, which he opened. A ring was inside of it.

“Happy Birthday, Mage Arthur.”

And just like that, Arthur was engaged all over again.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

Time seemed to stand still. His father really had crafted a perfect plan. In front of all these guests, there was no way that Arthur could refuse. He had to say yes.

When he did, the unfamiliar man slipped his cool ring around his finger. He grabbed his hand, and kissed it. The people all around him clapped. But all the sounds he heard, all the movements they made were in slow motion. By the time that things around him returned to a semblance of normal, Arthur was painfully aware of a missing Prince. He tried to smile with the crowd of guests, tried to think positive, but his mind was racing.

As the party grew to a close, and his new… fiancé bid him goodnight, Arthur was struck with a sudden realization.

_“This is too much.”_

_“I’m making up for lost time.”_

_“Al, we have all the time in the world.”_

The look in the Prince’s eyes showed doubt in that statement. He was making up for lost time, trying to enjoy his time with Arthur before it was too late.

_Before I was engaged…_

Alfred knew. He knew that Lord Kirkland was planning his engagement and that’s why he gave up resisting.

Arthur ran to the hidden tower. He ran up the winding tall staircase. He stopped at the top. Alfred was there, looking into his telescope.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Arthur. You don’t want to talk about it.” Arthur had yet another strange feeling that they had had this conversation before.

If Arthur was in his right mind he would have seen that Alfred was just avoiding the topic to make Arthur feel better. Instead, he felt rejected. Alfred didn’t want to talk to him, he was engaged—off limits—there was nothing between them anymore. It might have been illogical, but Arthur felt like the Prince wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He didn’t mean to start crying. But there he was, walking back down that long staircase with tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t making a lot of noise, but Alfred must have seen.

“Wait, wait! Arthur!” He grabbed his arm gently and led him back up the stairs. Alfred pulled him close into a hug, and Arthur gave in, sobbing into the body he knew so well. Alfred was saying things in his ear, things neither of them necessarily believed, like “It’s going to be alright,” and “Everything’s okay.”

“Y-you knew, Al. Why didn’t you te-tell me?” He didn’t mean to accuse.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“We knew this would happen eventually.” Alfred looked guilty. “Try again.”

Alfred sighed. “I was helping the Jack with some easy paperwork. It’s part of my King-in-training routine. I was going through papers when I saw the letter from Lord Dayne. It had gotten into the papers. Your father came to get it. He didn’t know I saw it. I was going to tell you on the night before your birthday, but I got sidetracked.”

“Sidetracked?” That was the first night they’d…

“I didn’t want to lose my chance, okay! I was always _this close_ to breaking the rules with you. I just wanted to be with you so badly and I knew you wanted it too. So when I found out that your engagement would be announced the next morning, the rules didn’t matter anymore. I needed to know what it was like. Just once, before you were gone forever, and I had to settle for someone so much less than you.”

Arthur was touched. “Al-“

Alfred kissed him, sweet, like the first kiss they never really had.

“I’m never going to love someone the way I love you.”

It was very possible that this was the last time they could be alone together. There was no time for words anymore.

They made love, right there on the floor of their hidden place. It was perfect. The tower that Alfred retreated to as a child was now being used for the same purpose it held years ago: Here, there were no princes. No Lords. No Mages. No obligations. Here, they were simply Alfred and Arthur, free from the world below them and high up near the sky.

Alfred was above him, and behind him, through the big window, the stars and the gods bore witness to their love. He saw the constellations that Alfred pointed out to him in the sky, placed exactly where they should be, like clockwork.

Why couldn’t people be like stars and clocks? Always moving along in their paths, always ticking away every second like they should be. People are different. They can’t let the world be as it should, they have to interfere with nature.

Arthur supposed that the gods up in the sky were like clock-makers. They made you, the clock, and let you tick away, as you should. But life has a way of making you tick differently, against the beat.

Arthur felt his heart beating with Alfred’s. They were ticking right on schedule.

But it couldn’t last forever. That was the worst part. No matter how many times you wind up a clock, something will always come to make it too fast or too slow.

When it was all good and done, they moved apart. They couldn’t stay here forever, hidden amongst the stars.

…

They were outside their hidden tower now, back in the real world. No touches. No kisses.

Arthur looked up at the sky, cursing the gods and himself for bringing him such heartbreak. He felt the wind whip around him and the humidity rise up. He saw the sky turn so dark it was almost purple. The rain would start soon. Arthur would make sure it poured.

Arthur would be leaving the Capitol soon. He had to visit his new family. Jack Dayne was waiting for him in a carriage. He said goodbye to his father, to the King and the Queen, graceful as ever.

He said goodbye to Alfred last. They shook hands. Like friends. Like acquaintances. And suddenly Arthur felt like he could cry all over again. He resisted, for the sake of propriety and continued to the carriage.

As he climbed in, he kept his eyes everywhere but his fiancé. When the carriage started to move, he watched until the Spades Palace disappeared.

Arthur was off to a new and unfamiliar place, more south and more west than he had ever been in his life. The Australia County might have been another planet to Arthur, if he didn’t know better.

“So, how’ve you been?”

Lord Dayne was trying too hard. “Fine, my Lord. Just fine.”

“Oh! Jack, my name’s Jack. Everyone calls me Jack in Sydney.”

“Okay, Jack.” A strange thought passed through Arthur’s mind.

“What?”

“If anyone in the British County called my father Arnold, he would have their head.” Arthur was laughing, half because of the thought, and half because he was hysterical.

… _Jack_ laughed as well. “Well, things are a bit different down here, mate. You’ll get used to it, I promise. I will make sure of it. I want you to be happy. Really.”

He was kind. He was charming. He owned a castle, and ruled over one million people. Jack Dayne was a good man. Arthur silently cursed himself for treating him poorly—there was nothing wrong with what he did, considering.

Arthur silently promised himself that he would try to be a good husband. This was going to be his new life, he had better get used to it.

He opened up to Jack. Told him about his family, about London, about the Mages. How his brothers used to torment him, how he was dying to see the world, and how Antonio accidentally set his own pants on fire during a tournament. He missed his Mage friends dearly, and wanted to see them.

Jack looked very relieved. He returned Arthur’s conversation in full, with lots of enthusiasm. He told Arthur of his family, how his mother died in childbirth and how his father caught the sickness and passed on. He talked of his sister, younger than him by 3 years.

Arthur did the calculations. That would make her eighteen. Same as—

No. He wouldn’t think of him. For his own good.

Jack told him all about his wonderful palace, how people come in every night to be merry and dance. The palace was right on the water, on a beautiful beach, and there were plenty of fresh fish to be found.

With every story they told, it became easier and easier to talk to each other.

Jack brought the tough stuff up first. “It’s just gets hard, being in a castle, ruling so many people every day, with no one to be there for you. I’m twenty years old, Arthur. I’m… I’m all alone. So I’m sorry for stealing you away from court and from home. But we could be great friends. Who knows? Maybe we’ll fall in love after all.”

“Maybe. May I ask, why me?” Arthur was curious.

The Lord of Australia smiled wide for him to see. “Well, I saw you at the Mage Tournament in Spades. When you took the win with that big clap of thunder, I was so interested. You were fantastic!”

“Thank you, truly.”

“So I got to thinking—I thought, I want to meet this guy. I never got to talk to you, but you were stunning. Makin’ eyes at some blond guy though. More than one blond guy, actually.”

He noticed that? And remembered that? He was good.

“What’s the deal with that? You looking for someone, or do you just got a thing for blondes?”

“Oh, I had just been looking for my brother, Will. It’s nothing. How can you remember that?”

“Oh, I’m good at figuring things out. I want to figure you out.” He was smiling. His smile reminded him of—

Not going there.

“Well, you can try.”

“I’d like to. Really. So, Arthur, I hate to ask, but I want to hear it from you. Will you marry me?”

Jack looked like he needed reassurance. He was trying so hard to be good for Arthur.

“Yes. I will. Marry you, that is.”

“Alright! Well in that case, I’ve got one thing to say to you: Welcome to Australia."


	10. Chapter Nine

The Sea Palace in Sydney, Australia was beautiful. It was often called the Paradise of Spades. On a hill overlooking the white, sandy shores and clear, blue ocean, Arthur could see why. Many people stayed here to relax, and ended up too in love to ever go back. 

Arthur, however, was not one of those people. It was hard to be positive for Jack in oppressive heat and sunshine. Arthur couldn’t even stay outside for too long, not without turning an unfortunate shade of red. He would never gain the tan of the locals. He needed to be under clouds to be happy. Ironically.

He had his own rooms in the Palace, and there were always people around for him. Still, Arthur felt very alone in Australia. He might as well have been walking around Clubs—that’s how much he belonged on this sunny shore.

Of course, that wasn’t the only problem with living in Jack Dayne’s palace. No, the real problem was a girl named Alayna Dayne. Jack’s sister was eighteen years old, and she was beautiful. She had long, blonde hair that was very light. So light, that in the sunlight it shone white. She had eyes the color of Arthur’s, but that was all that they had in common.

In front of Jack, Alayna was an angel. A saint. But when he wasn’t around…

“Good morning, Arthur. You’re looking extra grumpy today. I don’t know how you could manage that. Do you want to hear some good news for a change?”

“Good news? I suppose.”

Alayna leaned in close to him. “You can’t tell anyone this. Well, Jack already knows. Actually, this was his doing!”

“Okay, I won’t tell.” It probably wasn’t all that important.

“I’m trusting you with this information because you will be my brother-by-marriage. I am a woman in love.”

Arthur didn’t want to hear about love anymore. “Oh, that’s very interesting.”

“Oh, hush you! And I know that you don’t care who you fall into bed with, but—“

She didn’t just say that. “What?”

Alayna pointed. “Moon tea. That’s a whore’s drink.”

“No it’s not. It’s a smart person’s drink. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Does Jackie know you’re not a virgin? And he’s still marrying you? Wow, how did your father manage that one?”

“You’re a bitch. A really foul, fucking bitch.” She deserved that.

She smiled, meaner than she ever had in the past month. “Well, you should watch your tongue. Because this foul, fucking bitch is going to be the next Queen of Spades.”

“What?!” That was impossible.

“Did you really think that Jack went all the way to the capitol just for you. You’ll never be that important. What does a Mage even do in the modern world? Show off in tournaments? Oh, slay me. No, he went to the capitol to talk to the King. They arranged our marriage.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak again.

“No, I don’t want to hear another word to you, especially since Jack is insisting that you come to the capitol with us. I get to meet my true love, and no easy begetter is going to ruin the moment for me.”

Arthur should’ve smacked her right across her pretty face. Instead, he took a gulp of the “whore tea” as she walked by. He couldn’t hit a woman—that was one of the ways he was actually treated like a man.

The sad part was that she had treated him like that since the first day he moved in. She told him this just to call him names that he didn’t deserve. She was always insinuating, always condescending. And Arthur couldn’t do anything about it. Jack thought she was perfect, and apparently everyone else did, too.

Now he had to fear the worst: What if Alfred thought she was perfect, too?

…

A letter arrived in Australia the very next day, officially announcing the engagement of Prince Alfred and Lady Alayna Dayne.

They set out for the Capitol the day after that. It felt strange to be going back to the Capitol. He didn’t really know what he was going to do about Alfred, Alayna, or Jack.

He couldn’t tell Alfred what a bad person Alayna was—he would just look jealous and desperate and that wasn’t what he wanted. Nothing made sense anymore. Time slowed down in the worst way, like when you’ve dropped something and were watching it shatter on the ground. Arthur had to pretend to read his book while Alayna prattled on to Jack about how she hoped Alfred would like her. He almost vomited several times. Perhaps, he thought, if he actually was sick, he would aim for the bitch.

When they finally arrived, no one was waiting for them but the servants. Arthur was shone to his room without any sight of the royal family. This room was different than his previous one, still extravagant though.

He was in his new chair, reading a new book about the effects of storm magic on animals. It was almost like he was back in time two months, reading in his room, half expecting Alfred to burst in and sweep him off his feet. But that didn’t happen. People were tense in the palace—he would guess that the Clubs situation wasn’t getting any better.

…

It was dinnertime. Arthur was walking down, down to the grand stairway that led into the main hallway. He didn’t know if he was ready to see Alfred, his father, anyone. He was passing the Prince’s door, recalling how many times he snuck in or out of it. He was pulled from his musings when one of the doors opened up and two hands grabbed him and pulled him inside.

Arthur found himself standing behind a closed door with the Prince of Spades. With Alfred. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Alfred was the one who closed the distance between them. He didn’t say a word; just put his arms around Arthur and held him tight to his chest.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, not speaking, not thinking, just feeling comfortable and content for once because of each other. Alfred eventually returned them to reality. “Arthur…”

“I know, love.” Alfred’s head drooped down onto his shoulder. He could feel the cool metal of his glasses on his skin, a comforting feeling.

“I love you.”

“You’re making this hard on yourself. You need to meet her eventually.” He made a face, accidentally, of course.

“Is she that bad?” Alfred was smiling, finally.

“I can’t say without sounding jealous.”

“C’mon, tell me something.”

“She’s very… pretty.”

“No. You’re better.”

“You haven’t seen her yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re better. I love your hair, your lips—lots of things.” His eyes ran down the length of his body. “Your eyes especially.”

It was Arthur’s turn to smile. “Go on,”

“We’re not changing the subject. Tell me about her?” Arthur was done spending his time talking to Alfred about Alayna Dayne.

“Fine, she’s a real witch, but she’ll never act like it to you. She’s convinced that she’s in love or something. She seemed more excited about being the Queen than anything else.”

“Of course. I don’t want to eat anymore.”

“Al, you can’t change anything. You’re still marrying her.”

“Did she do anything to you?”

“No.” Arthur answered too quickly.

“Yes. I don’t want to marry anyone who could hurt you. You deserve respect.”

“Apparently so does she. You have to marry her.”

“Well, then she’ll just have to be as unhappy as me.”

“Don’t do anything rash.”

“Are you hungry, Arthur?” Strange question.

“No, not really.” Alfred kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Good. Let’s make her life hell,” Alfred smiled wide. And then started kissing his neck.

“How can we do that?”

Alfred looked up, “Oh, I’ve got a couple of ideas.” He returned to his neck, sucking at a particular spot.

“You’ll leave a mark—“

“Exactly.” Oh. Arthur never expected Alfred to think of something so malicious as that. It kind of turned him on.

As Alfred pulled him further into the room, their plans didn’t matter anymore. They were just Alfred and Arthur again and it was perfect.

They met with a force they didn’t know possible, and it was _so good._ They were undressed before Arthur could comprehend what was even going on. They were on his big bed and then Alfred was on top of him and his fingers were inside him. All he could feel were those fingers and a month’s worth of misplaced longing and repressed emotions.

And then he was inside him finally, and Arthur couldn’t remember feeling any better. Alfred thrusted into him so hard that he was sure he’d feel it well into the week. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He was making all sorts of noises, cries and pleas for something, _anything_ , as he was pounded into.

Alfred slowed down and quickly pulled out. Before Arthur could respond, he turned him around on his hands and knees and kissed the back of his neck. Then, he was inside him again.

This was one of Arthur’s favorite positions—it was slightly indecent, but still fantastic. He felt close to Alfred, who was on top of him, whispering things in his ear again.

His climax hit him almost unexpectedly. Alfred couldn’t handle the tight heat, and he followed soon after. They collapsed in a heap on the bed, smiling like the world wasn’t falling apart

Alfred was engaged. Arthur was engaged. Yet, here they were, somehow still holding on.

…

Eventually, they had to pull their clothes back on, and venture outside. In the halls of the Palace, they chatted and walked around. It was summertime, and still warm in the night air, so they ended up at Arthur’s tree outside. Alfred had his arm around his shoulders, something that might be taken as friendly unless you knew better. Or were looking for it.

She found them then. “Arthur! What a surprise to see you here.” The way she said it could be translated as “why don’t you get lost.”

“You too, Alayna. I thought you’d be with your brother.”

She had a strained smile on her face. “Funny, I thought that to be your job.”

Before things could get anymore tense, Alfred jumped in, seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere. “My lady Dayne, may I say that it is an honor to meet you.” His voice was dripping with sweetness.

She blushed. Really? “Well, it is certainly an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.” He smiled.

“So, Prince Alfred—“

The prince, who normally would have no problem being addressed as simply “Alfred,” looked offended. Appalled.

“Your Majesty.” He relaxed. “Where have you been these past couple of hours? You missed dinner you know?”

“Yes, I know. I got caught up in talking to Arthur.”

“For three hours?”

Arthur jumped back in. Time for some suggestive thinking. “Well, we didn’t just _talk._ I fell asleep. Sorry, Al. Travel makes me tired.”

Alayna looked baffled. Between the informal addressing and Arthur’s slight innuendo, she didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll forgive you. You’re my best friend, after all.” Apparently, Alayna didn’t know that.

“Oh! You’re friends?”

“Best friends, for years now. Since I was fifteen.”

“Oh, and was that before you were engaged to that Mage, Arthur?”

“After, actually. But we’ve only gotten _really_ close in the past year.”

Alayna caught that one. “Arthur, where’s your engagement ring?”

He looked down at his left hand. Indeed, the ring was not on his finger. He didn’t plan this one. He remembered that he took it off when he slept with Alfred. It was still in his room. Oops.

“Oh! It’s always falling off. It’s a bit too big on my finger. It must have fallen off when I fell asleep.”

Alfred chimed in. “So it’s in my room. Let’s go get it.”

She followed them to his bedroom. If Arthur said that no one had had sex in this room, he would be lying. The covers were ruffled and halfway off the bed. A vial of the lubricating oil was still out on the nightstand. Arthur’s book was lying open on the floor. His ring, however, was on the nightstand, exactly where he’d put it before.

The state of Alfred’s room was the last straw for Alayna.

“That’s it. First, you go around being all suggestive, and now I see this! You, Arthur Kirkland, are _engaged._ And you’re sleeping with an engaged man? That’s a crime! Jack will hear about this!”

Alfred took a step forward. “Lady Dayne, I think you are misunderstanding. There’s nothing going on between us. Arthur’s my best friend. He fell asleep, and I picked his ring up when it dropped.”

Alfred was convincing. Arthur almost believed that they didn’t have sex at all. He continued. “I hope you don’t have further thoughts like this. I would hate to be in an unhappy marriage. And I don’t take well to being accused of something like adultery.”

Alayna looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”

Alfred kissed her hand. “Why don’t you get some sleep.”

She bowed her head and walked out the door.

“That was—“

“Fantastic.” They both started laughing.

Alfred calmed down first. “Maybe we should lay off her for a while. She seemed pretty upset.”

“I suppose. She didn’t believe us. She’ll be suspicious from now on.”

“Well, we had our fun. Maybe she’ll treat you better now. I feel better, do you?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

Alfred sighed. “I wish I could marry y—“

“Don’t. You’re making it hard—for the both of us—again.”

“But it’s true.”

“I know. Still, some things are better left unsaid.”

…

Arthur kept thinking about what they had done today. He and Alfred played a mean game. Sure, Alayna wasn’t kind, but she was a person. Arthur was guilty. He had been raised better than to fight fire with fire like that. He didn’t want to apologize. He just wanted to make sure that Alayna was okay. And that she wouldn’t bring anything up to Jack.

He walked through the corridors until he reached the room of Alayna Dayne. He knocked on the door. It swung open. Arthur whispered her name. “Alayna?”

No answer. He quietly walked into the room. She wasn’t there, but there were clear indicators that she had just left. She had been writing a letter—Arthur saw the ink and the quill still sitting out by the candlelight.

Curiosity got the best of Arthur. He started to read.

_Master,_

_I have finally arrived in the Spades Capitol. It will be much more easy to gather information here than in Australia. Lord Dayne still knows nothing of me. I thank you again for agreeing to spare him and myself. I will continue to act enamored with the Prince, but my character is facing something difficult. Prince Alfred has a lover. The Mage of Storms. Because I noticed their relationship, I had to act offended. This Mage must be delt with before I can continue. His magic is disgusting—it offends me. I look forward to a magic free world. After the domination of Spades, the other Kingdoms will surely fall._

_I have observed the following today: The King of Spades and his Hand do not agree on methods of attack. The King would prefer a direct attack, while Lord Kirkland would rather a subtle approach._

_I shall continue to gather information for you._

_Long Live Clubs_

_Alayna Dayne_

Arthur put down the letter. Oh gods. Alayna Dayne wasn’t just a bitch. She hated magic. She was a Clubs Supporter.

No, Arthur thought. She was an Informant.


	11. Chapter Ten

So much raced through Arthur’s mind. Certainly there were people that were supportive of Clubs twenty years ago, but now? What would cause a Spades lady to support the other side of a war? He was baffled, even felt a little sick. There was no way this could even be happening. Alfred was in danger, not of just an unhappy marriage—his _life_ was in danger. That was horrifying. He started to get the feeling that he should leave the room right away.

So of course, Alayna walked in.

“No! You didn’t read it, did you?”

“No, no I d-didn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed.  She looked more threatening that ever before. “Well, you better pretend you never saw it. Or I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay alive for much longer. And neither will Alfred. Let me tell you this: Clubs will win. And then everyone will die. But not me. Not Jack. I’m protecting us. And if you want to live, you’ll help me.”

Was she really doing this? Things became clear. Alayna Dayne was afraid of magic. A Clubs spy must have noticed and took advantage of her. Convinced her that she was protecting her brother and herself.

“I would rather die. Clubs is wrong, plagued with an mad King and backwards ideas.”

“Fine. You shall be the first to die. You deserve it anyway!”

“Why? Why is that?”

She was getting angrier by the second. Her eyes were shining with tears of frustration. “They killed my father. The King of Clubs killed my father for supporting magic. Mother was already gone. That was my fault. Do you think I wanted this? That I hate my Kingdom, my King? I don’t. But I love my family more than anything, and only Jack is left. I want to protect my family, Arthur. Don’t you?”

Why was she talking about _his_ family? “What role does my family have in this?”

“Don’t you realize? Your family was royalty once. Your family has been full of magic since the beginning. The first Mage of Storms, the _current_ Mage of Storms—It was _your_ family that caused Spades’ love of magic. And he wants you all to be punished for it. The complete decimation of your family. And, I can prevent it, if you let me continue my work.”

“What? If you give more information, thousands of people will die. Innocent people.”

“Regular people don’t matter! People die all the time! It’s the nobility that really count. Do you want to lose your family?”

“No.”

“Well, I can give them false information. Make sure they think the Kirklands are on their side. The only people who have to die are—“

“The Royal Family.” She honestly didn’t care. Holy gods.

“Yes, but—“

“I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ll tell Jack. About you and the Prince.”

“And I’ll show him this.” Arthur waved her letter in the air and then put it in his pocket.

“No!”

“No more letters, Alayna Dayne. Or you hang as a traitor.”

He walked out the door.

…

Alayna didn’t tell her brother anything. But she must’ve said _something_ , because the next day, they were packed up and gone from the palace. He didn’t get say goodbye to Alfred. Not to his father. He carried a dark secret, a threat he wasn’t sure he could back up, and immense fear for the safety of all he cherished.

In Australia, he stayed shut up in his room. It was the only way he felt almost safe. He didn’t want to be around Jack—he had grown fond of him, like the kind of fondness one has with a pet. It was hard to be near him when he tried so hard to make Arthur happy. Arthur feared for his life should Alayna get anymore involved with Clubs.

He feared for many people. His family, Alfred, the lovely Queen and even the King, who he had eventually warmed up to. He could hear the words spill out of Alayna’s mouth like a terrible, terrible waterfall.

Complete Destruction. Thousands will die. Maybe more. And Arthur was sitting in his bedroom, reading a book, because he couldn’t do anything at all. He couldn’t tell a noble. Not his father, or the King. That would kill Jack for sure, and maybe speed up the attack on Spades. He couldn’t tell the Mages—they weren’t even allowed on Clubs’ soil. He had to sit and wait for a war that could ruin everything.

He ventured out of his room for food. He also wanted to make sure everything was okay, and to assure Jack that he was fine, too. Something seemed…different about the Palace. For one, no one was around. No guests at the Dayne’s table tonight. That was odd; usually the Grand Hall was bursting with guests, Lords, Ladies and common people sat together. It was all very modern—something Alfred would do.

The dinner table was long, and occupied only by brother and sister. There were lots of servants around, which was odd for a meal that size.

It registered to Arthur that the servants seemed different as well. He didn’t recognize any of them from his past couple of months here.

It was nearing the end of summertime, and it was warm everywhere. Jack and Alayna grew tanner by the day, so why were their servants so pale? By any standards, a common person would spend more time outside anyway. These people were paler than even Arthur, and many of them had clear, too light eyes that people didn’t usually have in Spades.

When Arthur realized just exactly what was going on, it was too late. A world was muttered in the language of Clubs.

“война.”

All three of them were seized. They got Arthur first, tied his hands behind him and spat in his face. They said all kinds of horrible things about him and magic, but Arthur tried to ignore it.

Jack was next. They tied him to a chair and held swords up to his face, his neck, and his chest. He looked terrified, unable to protect Arthur or Alayna.

Alayna stood confindent. She was so sure that Jack and her wouldn’t be hurt, even with swords threatening to cut her brother apart.

A man stood watching all of the chaos. When the three of them were restrained, he began to speak.

“Family dinner? How very sweet.” His accent was so thick and rough.

“What is the meaning of this!? Release us at once!”

The Clubsman frowned. “Shut him up.”

A sword plunged into his leg. Jack howled with pain. If he could ever walk again, Arthur would truly be surprised. Oh gods, he was bleeding.

The Clubsman, who wore army stripes, turned to Arthur. “And you, worthless Mage. If I even _feel_ a storm coming, I’ll put another sword in his heart.”

Arthur was stuck.

“Alayna Dayne. What a sweet spy you have been. But, my dear, you asked for too much.”

“My sister is not a—“

“Jack.” Arthur had to make him stop. He would be killed for sure if he kept talking.

The general continued. “But you see, we cannot comply to all your requests. If I were to spare you and your brother, my King would not reward me. One of you may live. Only one. Pick, now.”

Jack was too hurt to speak. The look in his eyes was desperate. _Pick Yourself._ He knew just as well as Arthur did that he would not live out the day.

“Jack. I pick Jack. Let him live.” She chose wrong.

“Very well. Gentlemen?” The men holding her captive unsheathed their swords. Arthur closed his eyes, but he could still hear the screams.

When he had the courage to open his eyes, Alayna Dayne was dead.

Jack must have gone mad. He was fighting the men restraining him, pushing against his chair and his binds, still bleeding everywhere.

“Kill him.” And just like that, it was over. They plunged their swords into him. Arthur was splattered with blood as he was forced to watch Jack’s lifeless body fall to the ground. It briefly registered with Arthur that there were no more Daynes left in the World. None. Complete decimation.

“Let go of the Mage filth. He has his hands tied.” The men did as they were told. Arthur stood, face to face with the enemy.

“I have been instructed to cut your heart out and give it to your father. While I’m looking forward to it, it saddens me so to see such a pretty thing wasted.”

Arthur bristled at that. He was seeing red. First, watching the deaths of two people. Then being told exactly how he would die. Now, this general wants to rape him?

The general grabbed his face. “All of my men are beginning their attack in Australia. I, however, will be going to the Capitol. Oh yes, imagine the look on you father’s face when I tell him that I fucked you before I killed you. Oh, the King would be so pleased.”

This was disturbing. But, something crucial stood out for Arthur. The general had kept him from using magic in order to protect Jack and Alayna. They were gone. Arthur had no one to protect but himself.

“You’re forgetting one thing.”

“And what’s that, whore?”

“I don’t need my hands to kill you.” At that, lightning burst through the windows. It caved in the ceiling.

The general was gone. Turned to dust from storm magic. And Arthur was running. Once again, it registered that he had just killed a man, but the general was hardly a man. An animal, really.

He could hear the angry shouts behind him, and he willed the gods to let him escape. He knew what he had to do, but he had never successfully done it before. To apparate, that is to disappear in one place, and reappear somewhere else, took a lot of magic. Arthur willed himself to do it, knowing he faced his death if he didn’t.

And then he was gone. There was no time in between. One minute, he had been running through the destroyed palace, and the next, he was standing in the Grand Dining Room of the Spades Palace.

His sudden appearance didn’t go unnoticed. He was covered in blood and was sweating and he could feel the streaks made on his face from the falling tears.

His father stood. The King. Alfred.

Arthur couldn’t catch his breath. He used too much magic to get here. It consumed too much of his energy. The world was spinning. “Clubs. Australia. Attack. They killed Jack. Alayna. Tried to kill m- m—“

The reality of it all hit him like a smack to the face.

“They’re coming.”

The second Arthur met eyes with Alfred, he blacked out.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Blood. Blood everywhere. Screaming. Jack was screaming. So was Alayna. They were coming for him, to hurt him, to rape him, to kill him. Everything was different in his head, tinged with red and tears and spinning around. He could hear his father’s _this is all a part of growing up_ , and Jack’s _I want to figure you out._ He remembered the Alfred from three years ago, looking scared and hurt. He imagined his Alfred, from the present, broken and bleeding, and dead, dead as Jack or Alayna or anyone else was bound to be. And behind it all, he could hear a clock’s _tick tock tick tock._

Arthur woke with a start. He felt like he had been sleeping for a very long time, and judging from the darkness outside his window, it was the middle of the night. He was startled by his nightmare, so vivid and real. There were tears on his face and he was sweating, breathing heavier than he ever had and he must have been shaking. He didn’t feel very weak—sleeping had obviously renewed his energy.

The Mage of Light had told him that he wasn’t ready to apparate, but he had to do something. Using that kind of magic was dangerous. You could be consumed completely if you’re not careful. Then he would be just as dead as Jack, which wouldn’t have helped anyone. He felt stupid, young and helpless. He felt very… vulnerable, which he hadn’t felt in many years.

As Arthur’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that he wasn’t alone. He was startled, his traumatized mind programed to think that this shadow would hurt him, but he recognized the golden hair and the broad shoulders. Alfred was there, sitting in a chair, and hunched over the bed. He had fallen asleep. That could not have been comfortable. Arthur wondered how long he had been there, and how long he had been asleep.

He sat up, and took a moment to look at his Prince. Alfred, who normally looked so at peace when asleep, seemed almost unhappy in his slumber. His brow was scrunched up and his entire body seemed tense. Maybe he was having a nightmare. Like Arthur.

Arthur slowly ran his hand along his back in some attempt to soothe him. Arthur inwardly and insanely chuckled—it was _him_ that had gone through a real nightmare, yet Arthur was still comforting Alfred. Alfred started to shift around and fidget—he was a light sleeper _and_ a bit of an insomniac from all those nights he spent looking at the stars.

The Prince opened his eyes, half-lidded and tired, but when he saw Arthur, they shot open wide. Alfred scrambled up from his chair and pulled Arthur into an embrace.

“Oh gods. Arthur. I’m so sorry.” He was whispering into his ear.

“No, I’m fine. I feel fine.” He didn’t feel fine. Not in the slightest. But he didn’t want Alfred to worry. “But Clubs—“

“Attacked, yes. We all know.” He pulled them apart, reluctantly. “Arthur, it’s been three days. You’ve been asleep for three days. The armies of Clubs have invaded. We’re at war.”

“How bad is it?” Arthur was suddenly very concerned for his family, far away in London.

Alfred moved to sit with him on the bed. “It’s… well, it’s not good, Arthur. Clubs isn’t concerned with our military. They’re attacking civilians. Common people. Peasants, even. Your father thinks that Clubs wants them to think that my father isn’t helping. Clubs wants to tear this place apart from the inside. A revolution.” He looked confused and angry, very angry.

“Has anyone seen the Mages?” He paused. “My family?”

“The Mages are here, in the palace. They wanted to wait until you woke up to start their plans. Your mother is here, too. But not your brothers. They’re still in London, with an army.”

Arthur couldn’t even picture Scott leading an army. He was his oldest brother, the most protective of him and also the most eager to tease him. He just hoped that he would be okay. All of his brothers.

A horrifying thought crossed his mind. “You’re not going out there, are you?”

Alfred looked down. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and without them he looked so _young._

“I- I have to.”

“No, you don’t. Alfred, you’re the succession to the throne. You’re a moving target!”

He sighed. “I know. But that’s just it: I’m going to be King one day. And people need to get used to following me. I need to be there. Take command, because my father must stay and defend the throne.”

He smiled a little. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The way he said it made sense, but Arthur was still so worried. He didn’t feel like he was in his right mind, and the thought of Alfred even leaving his sight was terrifying.

“When are you leaving?”

“A week.” A week. One week. Seven days. Arthur didn’t think he could deal with that.

“Oh gods. Alfred, what are we going to do?” He was mentally exhausted and traumatized to boot. He really didn’t know what to do with himself. He flung himself back into Alfred’s arms.

Alfred brushed away tears Arthur didn’t know he’d been shedding. “Shh, you don’t have to think about that right now. You’re going to meet with the Mages, and you’ll have a job to do for them. It will be pretty important, I am told. But while you’re doing your important job, I’ll be doing mine.” He gave Arthur a peck on the lips.

“I’m going to win the war for you. I’ll be your hero.”

Arthur tried to smile for him. “You’re already my hero.”

Alfred beamed, a wide smile on his face. “And that’s enough for me. But imagine it! I’ll come strolling in, and everyone will be cheering my name. They’ll be so happy with me. Nothing will be wrong. And my father will come up to me, and he’ll say, ‘Alfred, I’m so proud of you.’ And he’ll throw a feast all in my honor!”

Alfred was so excited with his made up fantasy. Arthur indulged him for a while, very willing to forget the present reality. Alfred got suddenly serious. “But during that feast, I won’t be looking at my father. I won’t be talking to any stuffy old noble. I won’t be able to look at anyone but you.”

Arthur needed this, needed the comfort and love that he had been without. “Al—“

“And it will be the perfect night. In the springtime, or the summertime. I’ll take you away from the party; lead you outside to our tree.” They were both lying on the bed now, and Arthur was closing his eyes to imagine Alfred’s fantasy.

“And when we’re there we can dance to whatever music we’d like. We can sit on that bench and just be together.”

Their eyes met. Arthur felt safe, jut for that little moment in time. “And when I finally get the confidence, I’ll get down on one knee. I’ll bring out a ring. And I’ll say, ‘Arthur, I will love you until the last of my days. Will you marry me?’… And then, we can live happily ever—”

Arthur started to feel choked up inside. He thought that he might start crying for a whole other reason.

Alfred obviously didn’t expect a response, but Arthur felt like he should say it.

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. I just thought you should have an answer to your question. When you come back, I’ll marry you. Even though it’s not probable or logical in any way, I’ll do it.” Arthur realized of course that he didn’t sound like himself—the real, not scared, not terrified-of-losing-everything Arthur would never say yes. It would hurt too much. But here he was, making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, because Alfred could die, any day now. He could be gone.

Alfred was smiling again. He gave him a kiss, long, but gentle. “Thank you. I… really needed to hear that.”

Arthur smiled—real and true this time. “I love you.” He needed to say it, just as much as he needed to hear it.

“I love you too. You should get some more rest. I’ll get the doctor in the morning.”

Alfred stayed there with him, and Arthur slowly drifted off into sleep.

…

When he woke up the next morning, Alfred wasn’t there. The bed was still warm where he’d been, though. He returned with the doctor, who proceeded to check him out. When the doctor was done, he told Arthur that he could get up.

Arthur was very hungry. He hadn’t really eaten in three days, so Alfred took him to the grand dining hall for breakfast. What he didn’t expect was to see his mother there, or how she reacted to seeing him.

When Arthur was a child, Lord Kirkland had forbid his wife to baby their youngest son. He was treated like his brothers, tough and unsheltered to the outside world.

But now, with red hair slowly turning white at the roots, Lady Tara Kirkland seemed frantic with worry. The second she saw him, she ran to her youngest son and pulled him into an embrace.

Many people comforted Arthur that day. The Jack of Spades, the Queen, the nobles who seemed to be running around like chickens. They all seemed so worried about him. It was more then Arthur could handle.

It was Alfred who Arthur had needed. Alfred had calmed him down. He had felt more at ease because of him. Still, people were treating him like he had died and come back to life. The real problem was that he had barely heard a word about the common people who were apparently being slaughtered less than a mile away. It was disgusting to see these people pity him.

By the time the King reached out to pat him on the back, Arthur was done. He snapped. “Stop this, right now.” The King looked baffled. But then again, when has anyone ever told him to stop doing anything?

“I don’t need to be comforted anymore. The thing is, your majesty, I’m _alive_!” By that time, people had started to tune in on his rant.

“I’m alive and there are probably thousands of people who aren’t. Innocent people. But unlike me, who is perfectly fine, healthy and safe in this godsforsaken fortress, they’re not! So why is everyone here treating me like I’ll be blown over with the wind? There are more important things to do than worry about me.”

The King stared at him for a long while. Then, someone started to clap. More people joined in, until the entire room was clapping for Arthur’s impromptu speech. Arthur was fuming—he didn’t mean to draw a reaction from the crowd. Alfred and the King weren’t clapping. His father and the Queen weren’t clapping. At least they understood.

He walked out of the crowded room full of ridiculous nobles and into the long corridors. At chance, he glanced out a window to see stormy skies. His temper was very stormy, after all. He retreated to the room they had given him, fully aware that Alfred was on his heels.

When he entered his room, he tried to slam the door shut, but Alfred caught it and entered his room. Arthur didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know if he could calm down enough to speak

Alfred didn’t say anything. He just put his arms around him again and let Arthur give in and cry. He knew it was weak of him. He knew it wasn’t proper or noble to cry. He was supposed to keep a stiff upper lip and all that. But he just couldn’t.

In between sobs, he started to tell Alfred what exactly had happened in Sydney. He could barely get through the death of the Daynes, and when he got to the general’s disturbing talk afterwards, he could feel Alfred tense with anger.

“And then… I-I made the lightning come through the windows. I caved in the roof. He was gone. Shocked. Turned to dust. I killed someone, Alfred. A monster, but- but… still. And the castle was destroyed. On fire and everything. More people must have died because of me.”

He started sobbing again. Alfred tried to comfort him. “If you didn’t come to the Palace, we would have sent the armies out much later. People were saved by you, Arthur.”

He started to calm down after that. It was time for him to get his act back together. He was a Kirkland, for gods’ sakes! His family was made of lighting and pirates and anger management issues. He was raised better than this!

On the very next morning, Arthur met with the Mages. It was time for war.


	13. Chapter Twelve

 Arthur was ready to start anew—ready to fight against Clubs with all he had. In the two days since he had woken up, Arthur had gone through a spectrum of emotions. Now, he was at a quiet rage for the people invading his home for such an awful cause. It was wrong. There was no other way to think of it. He was so ready to fight. He could do it. He would help out Spades in the fight for justice!

No. Never mind. He would be staying in the palace.

“What! No, I’m supposed to be going out to help! I want to help! You can’t honestly expect me to stay shut up in here! Are you—“

The Mage of Light interrupted him. “Arthur, we need someone to stay in the Palace to guard the Royal Family. We need someone whose magic acts fast, and Antonio’s fire is too dangerous to be used indoors. You have an important task. What if people try to storm the Palace?”

He, of course, made sense, but Arthur felt like he was the one being protected. He hated that—everyone else got to leave. Even the Jack of Hearts would be out there, doing what he could to aid Spades. Arthur felt useless not for the first time since he arrived. He consented to the Mage’s orders with a groan—it was useless to go against them.

He tried to help out with the plans of attack, but he was only helpful with Naval things. His father had taught him about marine warfare before he knew what magic was—the ocean was an essential and important thing to understand for a Kirkland. Not because they lived on a coast. It was more symbolic.

When the Mages had come up with their plans, Arthur reported to the throne room in the Palace. It was a great ballroom, which could hold maybe more than a thousand people. However, there were only three people there when Arthur entered the hall. The King sat with his Queen, and the Jack, Wang Yao, stood speaking to them. When they noticed Arthur, they stopped their hushed conversation.

“Arthur, I’m glad you have come to visit us.” The King was all smiles that morning.

“We had been warned that you might not be so willing to work with us here.” The Queen looked cautious, like she was expecting to be snapped at.

“I’m sorry Your Majesties, I just—I wanted to put myself out there. I wanted revenge. But I was given an order. So here is shall stay. I’m happy to protect you all.”

The King spoke. “It’s not because they think you’re not okay. I asked for you to stay. They were going to let Jack Feliciano remain with us, but I insisted on a Spadesman. So I’m sorry. Truly. But I trusted you the most. You have stayed here the longest. You are familiar with things here.”

Arthur nodded in understanding and began to leave the room.

“Oh, and Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“I promise you, you will have your revenge.”

…

When they weren’t preparing for their respective duties, Arthur and Alfred spent every moment they could with each other. Most of the time, they didn’t even speak, just sat there in each other’s company and thought about what to say. It was hard. In just two days, Alfred would be going out into the country to fight the Clubs military and prevent the havoc wreaked on the masses from going on any longer. Arthur didn’t know how he would say goodbye then, knowing that there was a chance that he might never come back.

If Arthur could have, he would have slowed time down so that every second they had together lasted a day. Every minute a month.

But time cannot be fought against. The morning came where Alfred had to leave to help lead the Spades’ Military. All the nobles in the castle and most of the servants came outside on the steps to see him off. He was to ride into the capital and the surrounding towns and villages. There, the military would fight off the Clubs. That was the plan, anyway.

He was huddled outside in the chill of a new autumn morning with the crowd. He was closer than most, practically next to the Royal Family as they bid Alfred farewell. The King was speaking to his son in hushed tones, but Arthur could still hear some of it.

“…sorry…intent…mean…you. I am… proud of you… always will be… my son and… prince.”

Alfred looked like he could smile, cry and shout all at the same time. Arthur could practically see the weight of the world being lifted from the Prince’s shoulders. The King had finally done what Alfred had wished for his entire life. He was proud of him. He was sorry for what he did in the past. He wanted to make it right.

Alfred shook his father’s hand, but in the end, he was pulled into a hug. He kissed his mother on the cheek, and told her not to worry about him. He said farewell to many people, some cheering his name and some weeping at his departure. In the end, he finally stopped at Arthur. Again, they would have to shake hands, maybe a pat on the back. It wasn’t fair.

They were standing a short distance away from the crowd. Alfred looked at him and spoke softly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You better be. Help those people, please.”

“Of course. Protect my mother, okay?”

“Of course.” They shook hands. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

“Arthur, do you believe in being impulsive?”

“Why?” The moment he asked, he knew exactly why.

Alfred pulled him into an intense kiss, more passionate than he had ever experienced before. Arthur reacted immediately, giving in, knowing full well that half a hundred gossipy nobles were watching. His father. His mother. The Queen. The King.

Both of their hands grasped at each other, holding on for dear life. This was what they needed. This said everything they didn’t have time to say. This was the ‘I love you,’ the ‘I might never see you again,’ and the ‘Please, don’t die’ wrapped all into one. They kissed until there was no more air left, and then they kissed some more. Alfred was supporting him entirely, and he dipped him down to complete their kiss.

When it was finally over, Alfred glared at some of the shocked and excited nobles, who, ashamed, turned away.

“I love you. So much.”

“I love you. Always will.”

“Arthur, I need to leave.”

“Of course.” This was really it. “Alfred. Just do me a favor? Don’t be a hero. Just—Just come back when this is all over. Please, come back.”

Alfred looked worried. He looked…scared. “I’ll try.” He kissed Arthur again; shorter than before and started down the marble steps of the Palace. At the bottom, he mounted his horse and began to ride away.

The nobles, talking already, began to retreat into the warmth of the castle. His parents, the King and Queen. But Arthur just stood there and watched him go. When he was gone, the only other person standing there was Antonio.

“Lo siento, mi amigo. Lo siento.”

He let himself be brought into the palace.

Arthur spent the next couple of weeks in a silent misery. He barely slept. Barely ate. He trailed behind the Queen most of the time, because he couldn’t really look the King in the eyes. He spent his free time practicing his magic, remembering defensive tricks and attacking things blindly with great force. He tried to avoid any news about the war—he was too afraid to hear anything new. But he couldn’t stay out of the loop forever.

In the winter, it began to snow. That’s when Spades officially began to lose the war.

END of CHAPTER TWELVE


	14. Chapter Thirteen

“Arthur, you should get some rest. You look awful. Are you feeling well?” The Queen was a very kind woman—she treated him more like a son than the guard he was for her safety. He hadn’t been feeling well—just a cold, but still, he felt weak.

“No, Your Highness, but I have to stay with you. It’s fine.”

“Well, that just won’t do.” She grabbed her paperwork and started up the stairs. Arthur followed her, until he realized that she was heading for his room.

“Your Majest—“

“I’ll just do my work in here. Now sleep. If I need you, I’ll wake you up.”

The Queen was insistent, and Arthur was grateful. He fell asleep soundly, praying for a dreamless sleep.

He was wrong. The nightmares still plagued him—terrible thoughts of fire and blood and screaming. He saw his brothers in the fire, his friends. He saw Alfred, screaming. Terrified.

Arthur shot up in bed. The Queen was standing so close to him that he was startled by her presence, and almost screamed.

“Shh. It’s okay, dear.” Arthur put his head in his hands—he must have been going mad.

“You’re having nightmares, aren’t you?”

Arthur didn’t want to lie, he just nodded his head yes.

“I’m sorry, dear. You’ve seen terrible things. I too have nightmares. I worry too much about the ones I love. We have that in common.”

She was smiling—it reminded him of Alfred’s smile.

“How long have you loved my son?” Arthur knew he would have to answer for their behavior on the steps eventually.

Arthur sighed. “A while.”

That wasn’t enough for the Queen.

“When I came to the Palace with my father… that was more than a year ago. It just sort of happened.”

“Well of course. That’s how love works.” Arthur was expecting to be chastised. He was expecting to be yelled at. He certainly didn’t expect the Queen of Spades to hug him.

Still, she had wrapped her arms around him until he had felt a little better. “I am happy for you. But my son isn’t here and that’s what worries both of us.”

She was just as concerned for his safety as Arthur. Of course. “He’s a good swordsman. He will be okay.” It helped to say it aloud. It almost let him believe it.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

“If there should ever be a time when I fear that Alfred is in danger… I want you to leave the Palace. I want you to find him and save him.”

Oh. “Okay. I can do that.” He would have to. Even if the Queen didn’t ask him, he would have gone.

“I thought you might. Now, go find your father. You haven’t been paying attention to what’s going on outside. I’ll be with the King and his guards. Off with you, now.”

…

When Arthur found his father, Lord Kirkland was bent over a map of the Land of Spades. Shaped like its Namesake, Spades was a very large island. He saw the Spades Capitol, in the lower middle of the map, and the Capitol City with all its harbors leading out to open water. He saw his own home, along the familiar river. The American Zone on its great lake and the Chinese Zone with all it’s fields. When his eyes shifted over to the Australia Zone, he saw that his father had marked it up with Clubs’ green sigil.

“The Castle is burnt. The people are being tormented. More and more of them are making their way over to the Capitol. This is getting very messy.” He was frowning quite a bit more than usual.

“What is the military doing?”

“Fighting them, of course. But the Mad King of Clubs doesn’t care how many men he loses. He just cares that Spades is decimated. More and more flock to the Australian shores everyday. The American and British Zones are protected by mountains in the north. But the Chinese Zone has to guard their borders on all sides. Our military is spread out thin.”

“That doesn’t sound so good.” He didn’t really know what else to say.

“I know. The worst part is our tactics are failing in the snow. Clubs is used to it. They’re gaining on the military. They’re winning this war, Arthur.”

His father wasn’t his usual self. Normally, he would be full of arrogance and pride. Today, he looked exasperated. He looked like his usual confidence had escaped him. As Arthur reflected, he realized that he looked… older.

“It’s… too early to know that. There’s got to be something, father. There’s always something.”

“Like _what_?” He was frustrated.

“What about the Navy? I’m sure our boats can do something to make it better. Or just make it worse for Clubs.” He said the last part under his breath.

Lord Kirkland shot up. “What was that last part?”

“Make it worse for Clubs…?”

The look in his father’s eyes was unusual, because he looked… happy.

“Yes! That’s it! That’s it! Why didn’t I think of this before?! Perfect!” He ran out the door like he was Arthur’s age again.

“Huh.”

…

The winter carried on, and the news from the battlefield was worse than ever. There were accounts of civilian casualties, kidnapping of children and money, arson. Entire villages went up in flames. The organized battle plans for the military became scattered. There were reports of knights gone rouge. It was chaos.

A letter came in from the west one day for Lord Kirkland, detailing the Clubs Military. They weren’t organized and they apparently didn’t have any formal plans. Or formal training. These men would hide out in the woods and surprise an entire battalion of men, killing them all. The Clubsmen would rape and pillage and burn, because that’s what they knew of war.

It seemed to everyone in the palace that this was a war that Spades would not win. The nobles lamented their lives all day, and for once the servants lamented too. It seemed the only people that hadn’t given up yet were the King, his Queen, and Lord Kirkland. The palace was as frozen as the water outside. It was too cold to rain, let alone storm.

Spades had never fared well in the winter.

…

It was March—winter’s thankful end—when the tides began to turn.

With the thaw of snow, the Clubsmen had lost their advantage. The Spades Military started pushing the Clubsmen away from the towns and cities, so less people were in danger. There were reports of rebuilding—bigger, better and stronger structures. Spades wasn’t done yet—they weren’t giving up.

Lord Kirkland did have a miraculous idea that day—he had sent enough ships to blockade Clubs, leaving them with a lack of supplies and no way to send more men to Spades. The downside of Clubs was that they only had one harbor. The flood of new Clubsmen stopped coming, and soon, the Spades Military began to outnumber the men.

They were going to win this war. Everyone seemed happy again, until they received a messenger from the battlefield.

“Your Majesty, I bring grave news. The very last boat from Clubs made it to shore. Sir, th-the… the King of Clubs is on Spades.”

“What!?” King Frederick was outraged. “How dare he set foot here! What is he after?”

The messenger gulped. Bad news, then. “He was heard saying he wanted to end th-the line, Sir. I don’t know what that mea—“

The Jack and Arthur shot up at the same time “The Bloodline!”

Oh, gods. The bloodline didn’t end with the King and Queen. It ended with their son. Alfred.

The Queen spoke, “How long ago was this message sent to us?”

“A week, Your Majesty.”

She looked devastated. “Arthur, remember how I asked you to do something for me?”

“Yes.”

“Go do it.”

And with that, Arthur was gone. Vanished through thin air again to find Alfred.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Arthur appeared somewhere in the south of Spades. The problem was that he didn’t know where Alfred was. He could be searching forever, but things were just too chaotic. The Clubs Military didn’t fight with order like Spades did—they hid and scattered and killed on sight. At first, Spades held true to their military tradition. But as soon as winter had frozen the land, the Spadesmen were running as wild as the Clubsmen.

All in all, it was a terrible situation.

Arthur found himself in a small town that seemed to be free from attack. Upon further observation, he saw men rebuilding some houses and other buildings that seemed to be burnt. He supposed that some knights had run the Clubsmen out of town.

Arthur realized then that he had to be creative. People couldn’t recognize him as a Kirkland, couldn’t recognize him as the Mage of Storms. If any word got back to Alfred or the Clubs Military, they would both be in danger.

He was lucky enough to see some scraps of clothing in the street, all dirty and rough from over usage. He grabbed them quickly and ran into the dense forest. While he enjoyed wearing the silks and velvets of nobility, he would stand out in the crowd of common people. Arthur examined the rags—they were coarse fabric and torn in many places. He kept on his underthings, but shed his nice clothes. The rags went on, but he still didn’t look in place.

Forever cursing himself for what he was about to do, Arthur grabbed some mud from the ground. He rubbed it into his hair, while he cringed. He considered rubbing some on his face like a beard, but thought against it. Disguise or no, he was obviously a begetter, from the slightness of his shoulders to the thin waist, and begetters didn’t have facial hair. In a puddle, he gauged his appearance. His blonde hair seemed a light brown with the mud, and he was dirty all over. The rags fit him too loose and they were ripped. He looked like a commoner that had been through hell and back. Maybe people would talk to him now.

He walked back into the village. He saw people similarly dressed, and everyone had a sad look on their faces. But there was hope, too. He saw a blacksmith giving orders to men for rebuilding. He seemed to be the one in charge.

“Excuse me, sir.” He used his best Australian accent.

The blacksmith looked at him. “Ay, another one of yas shown up today. We’ve got soup here, not much, but it’ll do, right?”

Arthur was filled with relief at that—he almost expected people the turn him away. Maybe his opinions of the common people were wrong.

“Thank y’ sir. Thank y’. May I ask, sir, if you’ve seen the army lately?” His grammatical errors were killing him softly.

The blacksmith shrugged. “Yeah, I did. They were here in April, but they left in May. Haven’t seen them since.”

It wasn’t May. It was April. Arthur left the Palace on the 20th of April, right before his birthday.

“Sir, what did you say the date was again?”

“I didn’t. It’s the last day o’ May, lad. June’s tomorrow.”

That was impossible. How could it be almost June when Arthur left the palace in April?

He must have thought about it for too long, because the smith continued. “They went west, they did, all on horses. I hope they win, that Clubs speak sounds real complicated. Don’cha think?”

Arthur murmured his answer and ran off. He found another villager.

“What’s the date?”

“The last o’ May.”

And another.

“The last o’ May.”

And another.

“Last o’ May.”

How could that be? How? Arthur was so confused that he almost lost focus on his goal. He traveled between villages after that, until the sun came down. He didn’t want to risk being noticed, so he had to sleep in the woods, under a tree.

How could an entire month have passed between Arthur’s apparation? It hit him then that he had completely skipped over his twentieth birthday, and then he thought about his life a year ago. How much things can change in a year. In five.

…

When he woke up, he heard something promising. Hooves.

He ran out of the forest, and saw them. There where maybe thirty men, clothed in the blue uniform of the Spades Military.

But Alfred wasn’t with them.

Arthur began to question them immediately.

“Well, everything was going great in the beginning. But when the winter came, oh gods, we lost so many men. It was awful. There were some plans in the beginning; we were following that Prince, yeah. It worked, until the winter.”

One of his friends chimed in. “Things got really scattered after that. I didn’t know where anyone was, and whenever I saw anyone, they was fightin’ the Clubs.”

Another one had a turn. “Last I heard, the Prince took a sword to the heart. Or the stomach, or they cut his head off. But all the Clubs say they killed the Prince of Spades. I don’t believe it, though. None of them could touch him.”

His friends all agreed. Their faith in Alfred was astonishing. Still, another boy popped out of the crowd. He was English, a commoner, but still from Arthur’s home.

“He told me something before he left. He said he wanted to go to Favea, you know, that big village in Australia. It took a big hit and Clubs are still attacking it.”

Favea. Of course he would go there. Favea was the city next to Sydney, smaller and more densely populated by common people. This was where Clubs had attacked after they had invaded, and it was still being bombarded. The only thing good about this war was that the fighting hadn’t gone into much of Spades. America, England and China counties were all but untouched. Australia and some of the Capitol city wasn’t so lucky.

Alfred’s will to help those most hurt was putting him in more danger than he knew.

With a goodbye and a thank you to the soldiers, he vanished.

…

He appeared in Favea, and he saw destruction. Bodies lined the streets, women and children and men, too, helpless and dead. He saw the Clubsmen running around and setting fires, and he saw Spadesmen putting them out and fighting the Clubsmen.

With the evening of the playing field, all of the fighting had centered in this village. Neither Clubs nor Spades could afford to split up the men they had left across the Kingdom. Favea was a battleground.

It was chaos. Absolute and true chaos. He had stood there for so long pondering the horrible sight of the city that two Clubsmen saw him. They ran for him.

Arthur fled into the forest, still thankfully intact, and he managed to hide and run until he lost them. He knew that they weren’t following him anymore, but he couldn’t stop running. He ran and ran, until he came to what looked like a shelter in the woods.

He couldn’t tell whose it was, but it was well made. Positioned in a way to hide fire smoke, this little camp could go unnoticed for weeks—months even.

“Slowly turn around. If I see a weapon, you’re dead.”

He knew that voice. He did as he was told, he didn’t want to provoke anyone at wartime.

“Now I—Arthur?” Okay, his disguise wasn’t all that great. Not good enough for Alfred not to recognize him. Still, upon sight, Arthur was flooded with relief. Alfred was alive. Alfred was okay. And he could take him back to the Palace. It would be okay.

“You’re alive. Oh gods, you’re alive.” Arthur flung himself into Alfred’s arms, because he had needed to be there for a year, and he never could before.

“Yeah, I know.” Alfred welcomed him into his arms, and then observed his appearance.

“It’s a disguise. Or it was.”

“Well, there’s a little pond over here. Do you want to wash the dirt off?”

“Gods yes.”

…

“Alfred, what day is it?”

“Well, judging by the position of the stars in the sky, I’d say it was the beginning of June. Or the end of May. Happy Birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.” So, no time was skipped.

They had decided to make camp for the night. While the fire slowly died out, Alfred had filled him in on the war.

…

“Well isn’t this just sweet. The prince _and_ his whore are here. We got lucky. The King was right.”

“Of course he was.”

Arthur and Alfred woke up to heavy Clubs accents.

They both shot up like animals in danger, but it was no use to run. They were absolutely surrounded on all sides. There had to be at least twenty of them, all with swords and spears.

“You know what the best part is? The King has predicted your behavior perfectly. Some news comes to the castle. You go find the Prince. And who’s protecting the King now? Who’s protecting the Queen? You Spadesmen, always so _predictable._ ”

They had walked into a trap. The King of Clubs wanted Arthur out of the Palace so he couldn’t defend the King and the Queen. He was suddenly struck with horror. Where exactly was the King of Clubs, if he wasn’t trying to kill Alfred?

Arthur knew. Alfred knew. But they were surrounded by a group of barbarians with spears. Helpless to the cause.

Arthur didn’t know what to do. He could attack, but Alfred didn’t have a sword. He supposed that if Alfred could get something…

Alfred was apparently not in the mood for Clubsmen today. He punched the leader of the group in the face, before the other could even move to swing his sword. Alfred grabbed the sword and started cutting men down, so Arthur started to do the same. The lightning came down on the men, turning them into smoke and dust. He got them one by one, and he could hear Alfred taking more men down by himself.

But then something happened. Arthur wasn’t looking, but he could hear the _clink_ of metal on earth as Alfred’s sword flew out of his hands. He turned around in time to see the Clubsmen charge at him with their swords.

“NO!” He reached out his hand.

Time stopped. Not just in his head. Time actually stopped. The Clubsmen were running toward Alfred with every intent to kill him—now they were suspended mid-run. Some even mid-air.

The only people that weren’t frozen were Alfred and Arthur.

Alfred’s eyes were wide, and so were Arthur’s. They had never experienced this. Alfred knew almost nothing about magic, but Arthur knew everything about it, and he had never read about it. This was the magic that didn’t really happen.

“Is this a Mage trick, Arthur?”

“I…I don’t know.

“Well, what’s going on?”

“Time. It froze. Alfred, I don’t know what this is but I know I have to take you home. So lets—“

“No.”

“What?” He wasn’t honestly going to—

“I’ve got work to do. If I go back now, these people will still die.”

“Alfred, what are you going to do? You’re one person. One. There’s still hundreds of people out there who want to kill you. You’re safe right now, but—“

“That’s it! I’m safe right now. Arthur, we can help out while time is frozen. He grabbed the sword off the ground.”

“Alfred! We cannot cut everyone down while time is frozen.”

“I know. But we can take their weapons away. And give them to Spades’ soldiers.”

He was bright. Always had a new idea.

While time was still, they traveled through the city of Favea. They collected all the weapons from every Clubman they saw, and deposited the weapons to Spadesmen everywhere.

This explained so much, and yet nothing at all. It was Arthur that controlled the time jumps. Arthur controlled the freeze. Arthur…controlled time. That didn’t happen. He was pretty sure that was never supposed to happen.

And it was making him weak. By the time that they finished their quest, time had begun to run in slow-motion, and Arthur’s world was spinning again. Alfred must have noticed, because he held onto Arthur as he walked, and got him water.

“Can you do just one more thing for us?”

“What’s that?” Gods, he sounded terrible.

“Take us home.”

It was extremely hard to do. He was already so tired, but they couldn’t waste time by traveling. What if the King of Clubs had already gotten to the Palace?

They vanished.

…

When they arrived, the doors to the Palace were wide open. At this point, Alfred was carrying Arthur through the doors—he was far too weak to walk. They heard shouting coming from inside, near the throne room. Alfred ran inside, still carrying Arthur and heading toward the yells. The scream could only belong to the Queen, and she came running out the doors.

“Alfred! Arthur! The King of Clubs is in the Throne room. I ran to get help, but so many people are dea- dea—“

She was weeping; enough for Alfred to set Arthur down and hug her tightly.

“Please, he’s with your father. They-they’re fighting, to the dea-“

She couldn’t say it. Arthur didn’t blame her. He had regained some of his balance in the world, so he was able to stand up and follow Alfred to the throne room. Indeed the two Kings were facing off. They were going strong, swords clinking with every block, every strike, and every hit.

Suddenly, the King of Clubs landed a hit. He thrashed his sword right into the King’s arm, and blood flew everywhere. It wasn’t hard enough to sever the arm, just wound it badly.

King Frederick lost his grip on the sword. It fell to the ground like Alfred’s did in the morning, and in trying to recover it he fell to the ground.

King Nicolai Braginski moved to strike. But first, he had to have a word. “This shall be your dying day. I should have enjoyed your surrender, but instead, you will have to surrender your li—“

What he didn’t know was that Alfred was sneaking up behind him. He didn’t expect to be interrupted, and he certainly didn’t expect Prince Alfred to literally stab him in the back.

The Mad King of Clubs fell to the ground in agony. He cried out. “This is not the end! Mark my words. You will all perish. You are worth nothing. You—“

Alfred swung his sword again. The Mad King’s ramblings stopped. Forever.

The world was still spinning. The entire room seemed to be shaking. Arthur watched as Alfred reached out to help his father, and then he fell into sweet unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Arthur’s sleep was dreamless. Completely and absolutely dreamless. He laid perfectly still and silent, and when he woke up, he could see everything that had happened clearly. He figured that things had turned out all right, because the King of Clubs was dead, and he could hear things being moved around, the working shouts of men building things outside the palace walls.

He still couldn’t believe it. He had done something crazy, something unheard of, but it had helped them win the war. His actions might have saved King Frederick.

Arthur wanted to get up, wanted to go explore, but he still felt weak. He was supposed to get some rest, he assumed.

“Is anyone there?” He shouted. Or at least he tried too. His voice was hoarse, and his “shout” barely reached a normal speaking level.

But he supposes that someone was listening for him, because a doctor, and the Mage of Light burst through the doors in less than a minute. The doctor’s visit was quick—he checked him out, and exclaimed that he needed to eat and needed to rest.

Mage Marcus was in for a longer visit. He put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and it began to glow. The light gave Arthur energy, and he immediately felt healthier.

“From the sun, you can thank me later. Arthur, did something happen out there? I ask only because storm magic doesn’t have this affect on you. I taught you how to apparate properly. What magic could have consumed your energy like that?”

Arthur hesitated. He didn’t know if what he did was even allowed, he didn’t know if it was something new.

“I-I was in danger, so I-“

“Okay, so the Prince was in danger, so what did you do?”

Arthur huffed. Did _everyone_ know? “I shouted. And then time—it just stopped.”

The Mage frowned in understanding. “Ah. I see. I should have warned you about this.”

“About what?”

He sighed. “Arthur, controlling time… that’s dark magic.”

What? Dark magic? Not only was it illegal, it was impossible. No one had reported dark magic in the four Kingdoms for at least a hundred years.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not gone. It never was. I should have warned you, because you favor storm magic, and storm magic is driven by emotion. It’s the closest magic to dark magic that we know.”

“But dark magic kills people, it is the magic of illusion and tricks, not tim—“

“Is controlling the flow of time any different than making yourself invisible or creating fantastic monsters? It’s still a trick.”

Oh gods. He used dark magic. He could technically be put to death for that.

“Don’t worry, no one has to know. But you can’t tell anyone.”

That would be okay. Nobody noticed that time had frozen. The only people that weren’t affected by it were him and Alfred.

“Alfred knows. He didn’t get frozen.”

The Mage rolled his eyes. “Well of course. He’s the one who told me in the first place. I didn’t tell him anything, just that it would never happen again.”

“Okay, thank you, Mage Marcus.”

The Mage vanished from his room with a flicker of light. No matter how many times he saw it, it was still really awesome.

But there was something that Arthur couldn’t get out of his head. What if he couldn’t stop jumping through time? What if he lost control? What if he became emotionally compromised? Could he risk the danger of dark magic?

With a groan, he flopped back down on the bed.

…

_knock knock knock_

The sun was higher up in the sky than it had been before, so Arthur guessed that he’d been asleep for a few more hours. Arthur sat up and exited the bed, if only to stop the persistent knocking. He knew these knocks, though. They were fast and hurried, like whoever was knocking was very impatient. They were also loud, like the door was being hit too hard.

He realized that he knew nothing about what had happened after he fell unconscious. But Alfred was knocking, so he would apparently be finding out.

Arthur opened the door, and was greeted by Alfred’s smiling face.

“I knew you’d be alright! Everyone was so worried about you!” The impatient prince pulled Arthur into his arms, and he was assured that, for once, everything was truly okay.

“Really? I was just worried about you. Love, how is it out there?”

Alfred sighed. “Well, the war is over, I can tell you that. But there are a lot of things to be fixed. Lots of things to be done before everything is back to normal. The good part is that Diamonds and Hearts are going to help us. They were too afraid to get involved in the actual war, but Jack Feliciano says that King Ludwig feels guilty. And you know that whatever Hearts does, Diamonds follows. So things are going to be better soon. Really.”

That was…great news. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad all we did wasn’t in vain.”

Alfred smiled. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” He kissed him, _finally._

Oh gods, Arthur missed him. They kissed for a while, not really gaining momentum, just enjoying each other’s presence. Things seemed back to normal, maybe even better than before. Arthur got a secret thrill just knowing that they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore.

But still, they had the decency to look ashamed when the Queen of Spades burst in, pretending not to notice exactly where her son’s hand had been a moment before.

“I see you’re feeling better, Arthur. How is everything?”

“Fine, I think. I’ve had the okay from the doctor to move around again.”

“That’s great, because you need to come with me.” She pulled Arthur out into the hallway, completely leaving Alfred in the dust.

“Where are we going, Your Majesty?”

“My chambers. Move faster you, I’ve not got all day.” The Queen was an intimidating woman when she wanted to be. Arthur quickened his pace.

They were in the Queen’s personal office; a place Arthur had spent much time in when he had guarded the Queen. It was here that the Queen did most of her duties. She handled some inter-kingdom relations, as well as some issues of the interior. In Spades, it was well known that the Queen did as much work as the King—from observing her, Arthur could attest.

“I have a question for you, Arthur. Can you read this, and then tell me what you’d do?”

She held out a letter.

_To the high members of Spades’ authority:_

_There has been a vigilante “hero” running around the village of Deepwood, in the American forestland. These heroes claim to work for the Freedmens, our Lords of the forestland, and they have been claiming compensation for their work of “protecting” the people from Clubs. As you know, the war hasn’t even touched the American forestlands, and the Lord Robert Freedman claims that he has no knowledge of the vigilantes. They threaten harm if money is not given. Please help._

_Sir Dowland of the Willows_

Arthur considered it for a moment. Why was the Queen asking him, anyway?

“Well, I suppose that you could get in contact with your brother, Lord Robert. He could send some soldiers out to the villages to watch for “tax collectors.” And even if they weren’t caught, they would be scared away.”

“And why is that a wise idea?”

Arthur thought again. “If the soldiers catch the criminals, then there punishment would be an example for other people taking advantage of the war. And if they’re not, they won’t return to the area, and the common people will show thanks and support for Lord Freedman and his protection. Either way, he wins. Threats stop.”

The Queen was smiling. “Very good, Arthur. And this one?”

Arthur must have sat there for an hour, going over letters and formal requests with the Queen. She kept growing happier and smiling, and by the time the letters were gone, she acted not at all like the proper lady she was brought up to be. Instead, she was smiling wide with her teeth showing, and positively bouncing with youthful energy. He could see where Alfred got it.

“Come now, Arthur. With me.” He was pulled farther into the Queen’s chambers and was met by two handmaidens.

“What’s going on? Um, Your Majesty.”

“We have to get you measured. If you and Alfred are going to officially court, you need to dress the part.”

Court. Officially court. As the handmaidens went to work, Arthur’s mind was racing yet again. Courting. The first step to an engagement, which lasted about a month. Oh gods, he and Alfred could be engaged in a month.

The Queen wasn’t just asking him to look at her letters, she was…testing him out?

“Is this for real?”

The Queen laughed. “Of course, Arthur. Or should I say, Your Majesty.” She whispered like she was telling a secret.

“Does Alfred know about this?”

“Yes, he does. His little stunt on the steps before the war pretty much guaranteed it. It was this or a scandal.”

Oh. So that was it. He really was labeled the “prince’s whore.”

The Queen must have noticed his dejected look, because she interrupted his sad thoughts. “Not that we weren’t considering it before! We were! But we didn’t speak to your father in time, and he made a deal with Lord Dayne. It was rotten timing, Arthur. I think you’ll be a great Queen.”

He still couldn’t believe it, but he wasn’t rejecting the idea. This was the goal, the thing that Alfred and him could only dream about. And for once, it was coming true.

Arthur left the Queen’s chambers with the promise of a dozen new outfits and a hug of reassurance. He went to go seek out Alfred.

He had found him in the Prince’s chambers, reading a book.

“You’re reading?” He feigned surprise.

Alfred smiled, and stood up to meet him. “It does happen, from time to time.” He winked.

“So, Arthur, now that we are officially courting, I have a request of you.” He put on a silly, stuffy tone of voice that he had often used to impersonate some nobles before.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile; it was all so chivalrous and romantic. And silly.

“My father is throwing a ball in my honor. It will take place in about a month, on my birthday. Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the ball?” He spoke with all the seriousness of an honest request, but there was still an ounce of joking in his words.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He was thanked with a kiss to the hand.

“What would you like to do now, as your first courting activity?”

They both smiled for a second, before casting off all the romantic chatter and diving into the passion they had missed so much.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Festivities in the Kingdom of Spades were kind of a big deal.

So it was not really a surprise that the Queen was going all out to plan this ball. In order to celebrate Prince Alfred’s nineteenth birthday, as well as to celebrate his heroic actions during the war, she had extended the guest list to well over 300 people. Nobles from all over Spades were coming, as well as those from Hearts and Diamonds. There was even a rumor that the other Royal families were coming in order to show their support.

All in all, this birthday celebration was going to be very interesting.

Arthur had spent the month of June in a fairytale bliss. It was like everything he had told himself not to hope for was coming true. He was being courted, instead of engaged out of the blue. He was actually doing something for once, helping the Queen out with her duties and excelling with his decisions. It was almost unbelievable, how soon he could go from almost-widowed Mage to future Queen of Spades.

But believable or not, it was still happening. And yes, he did often feel overwhelmed, but he wasn’t alone. He had Alfred.

It was easy to fall back into their routines, except now they could afford to not be so sneaky. When they weren’t busy with duties, they would still walk through the summer air, still be with each other. And of course, they would tease each other endlessly about participating in something so cliché.

But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed cliché in his life. His nightmares hadn’t gone away. Alfred didn’t seem to be so affected by the war. He didn’t know what to say or what to do about it.

Often Arthur would wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes he screamed out loud when he did. Alfred was a light sleeper, so he always got up. He would beg for Arthur to tell him what was wrong, but he didn’t want Alfred to know. He didn’t want him to worry.

About two weeks before the big celebration, Arthur started sleeping in his own room, just so Alfred wouldn’t know there was anything wrong with him. He spent a lot of time on his own, just thinking and trying to understand these terrors.

He had heard reports of people having the terrors after wartime. They often recollected things that they had seen and done, things that they couldn’t forget. Arthur had those dreams, of Jack and Alayna, before the official start of the war.

But now the dreams were different. They were much darker, sad, even depressed. That didn’t seem to match up. Arthur began to have an idea about just what was causing his terrors, so he sent out a letter in the middle of the night.

Antonio showed up as fast as he could. “Arturo, you said there was an emergency?”

“Well, not exactly. Can you tell me why dark magic is illegal? The real reason?”

In classes, it was told that dark magic was outlawed because it was not moral. That was a story that many didn’t truly believe.

Antonio sighed. “All right, but you cannot tell anyone this, si?”

“Yes, yes. Get on with it!” He was very impatient.

“The _magia negra_ was outlawed in every kingdom because of what it did to its users. It caused paranoia. Insanity. _Dimencia._ People went _loco_ because of it. The more it was used, the more the mind withered away. Why are you—“

He was struck with remembrance. “Oh, Arturo, don’t worry about it. As long as you never do it again, it’s fine. Really.”

Arthur had to say something. “I have dreams.” Antonio looked up, his eyes filled with a fiery gaze.

“They’re…horrible. Terrifying. But, Antonio, they’re not from the war. I didn’t see enough of it to have dreams like that. They make me worry. I’m…” He had to admit it. “I’m scared of them.”

The Mage of Fire was someone that Arthur had admired in a past life. He was a mentor. He was a partner. But in the list of all things he was to Arthur, he was first and foremost his friend. Antonio wrapped him up in his warm embrace, and rubbed his back comfortingly.

It was the first time Antonio had even dared to touch him in four years. Arthur had sworn up and down that the Mage hadn’t taken advantage of him, he wasn’t that drunk and Arthur wanted it to happen, but things had changed after that. That’s why it would have been terrible to marry him. But Antonio had seemingly shed his guilt to comfort Arthur.

“It’s okay, Arturo. It’s fine. You just need someone to talk to about it. Someone who can really make you feel better. I can do that. We’re here now and you can talk to me if things get hard. I’m your _amigo._ That never changed.”

It felt nice to be comforted by a friend rather than a lover. It was just different. And Arthur didn’t have to worry about whether or not he looked ugly sobbing, which was always a plus.

They talked for a while, holed up in Arthur’s room, sitting among blankets like children. Antonio _did_ make him feel better, and soon enough, they were laughing like they were teenagers again, making cracks about the past.

“I can do anything, _Arturo._ Passion is my game.”

“No, that’s fire.

“Fire is passionate.”

“Well, I suppose.”

“You are no stranger to the _flames_ of love. They say that people with fire magic are the best lovers in the world.”

“To be honest, from what I remember, it could have been better.”

He pretended to be offended. “It was good and you know it.”

Arthur smiled a joking smile. “Why of course. How could I forget? You were the best I ever had.”

As Antonio opened his mouth to respond, the door swung open.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could borrow my _courtier._ ” Alfred’s use of that old French Diamonds word for someone being courted was not unnoticed.

Antonio whispered “The Green Eyes do not look good on this one” in his native Spanish, and was gone in the flicker of an eye.

Arthur really didn’t know what to say. He did put the pieces together though. If Alfred had been listening outside the door for a few minutes then surely he heard Antonio and himself discussing how they had slept together. Which is a fact that Alfred didn’t know. And then Alfred opens the door and they’re on his bed.

That plus the fact that Arthur had been avoiding him put the begetter in a very messy situation.

Alfred looked like he was near a breaking point. He slowly, and not without restraint said, “now would be a great time to start talking.”

Arthur didn’t know how to go about doing this. The first thing out of his mouth happened to be the thing he probably shouldn’t have said.

“I slept with Antonio.”

Alfred looked like he could kill somebody. Probably him.

“Wait! Can I start over?”

Alfred sat down on the bed. “Sure. I don’t see how it could get worse, so maybe it’ll get better.” His blue eyes were stormy grey with emotion.

“When I was sixteen, I was really into the Mages. I had this fake fantasy that they would come and get me and make me a Mage. But I thought that it would never happen. Ever. I mean, what are the odds? So when I met Antonio in London, it was sort of a big deal for me. But we both needed a friend and we became that for each other.”

Alfred nodded. “And?”

“Well, one day I got really mad at my father and my brothers and I told Antonio to get me really and truly drunk, which is something I’d never really experienced before. We both had a bit too much, and from what I remember, we just sort of ended up in bed. But then it was over and we woke up and it was really awkward and he felt guilty because I was a virgin and he never touched me again and—“ He never dealt with awkward situations well.

“Whoa, okay. Calm down. Calm down, Arthur. That’s what you were talking about?”

“Yes. He was just visiting me.” Arthur answered sharply. He was a little mad at Alfred for assuming the worst.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Alfred had a proper amount of guilt on his face, so Arthur felt like he could forgive him.

“I do need to tell you something, though. That whole thing at the end of the war, when time…stopped. I caused it. It’s not some mage trick though. Alfred, I accidentally used dark magic.”

“Dark magic? But that’s—“

“I know, it’s supposed to be gone, but high emotions can trigger it in people with a lot of magic in them. I have been instructed and ordered to never, ever do it again.”

“Okay, but why are you telling me?”

“Well, Antonio told me that the reason dark magic was outlawed was because of the affects it had on the people that used it. If it was kept up, a user could go mad.”

“I wouldn’t worry, I mean it was just one ti—“

“Yes, but…” It was now or never. “Alfred, I have terrible dreams at night. Nightmares about death and sadness and people coming to kill me and everything I love. It’s from the dark magic. I… just didn’t want you to worry about me, so I—“

“Avoided me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Alfred. I guess I caused more harm than success. But Antonio told me it would be easier if I always had someone to talk to about it.”

“You can talk to me. Arthur, I love you. I care, really.” It was hard to believe that the prince was angry with him not a moment before, he looked so sincere.

“I know, love.”

…

After that, things went back to relatively normal. Since there were really no more secrets between them, Alfred and Arthur resumed their courting. Alfred always stayed with him at night, and if he woke up, Alfred would talk through it with him. Things were going smoothly as June came to a close.

And then it was July 4th, Alfred’s 19th birthday, and the day of the ball.

Alfred and Arthur stood, hand in hand at the large, ornate doors of the Spades Ballroom.

“You ready?”

“Of course.”

Alfred pushed open the doors, and they stepped into perfection.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Sometimes, it was magnificent to live in a palace. The Grand Ballroom sat the thrones of Spades Royalty along its far wall. Pillars lined its oval shape, grand and carved with pictures of stories old and magnificent. Everything was golden and sapphire, amethyst and velvet. It was beautiful.

The thrones were framed by two curving staircases, from which people made their entrance from inside the Palace. They led up to one gigantic, ornate door, which Alfred was currently pushing open.

As Alfred and Arthur walked inside the ballroom, hundreds of people stood and watched them. They were completely silent. Arthur didn’t know what to think—what were they thinking?

Were they judging them? Did they think badly of their courting? Despite himself, Arthur began to worry.

But then he felt Alfred’s arm in his, felt his closeness, and for once, all his worries went away.

In his blue waistcoat and brown trousers, Alfred looked proper as ever. He bore the emblem of Spades on his coat, as well as his new badges of honor. The Queen had forced him to wear his crown, too.

And Arthur stood arm-in-arm with him, matching him with the royal blue tunic, also bearing the Spades Emblem, and his brown trousers were tucked into his boots. His green eyes were lined with kohl, something that all women and begetters did at an event of highest formality.

It was when they finally reached the bottom of the staircase that Arthur realized it:

Tonight, they looked like Royalty.

And Arthur smiled, because this was really happening and it was too good to be true. And when Alfred kissed him, the people standing all around were cheering—for them, for Spades and for everything else.

As the King arrived, Queen at his side, Arthur couldn’t help but notice his arm, still bandaged after weeks of treatment. He was really hurting, but his happy demeanor still shone through. As the people took their seats, he moved to speak:

“Thank you, Lords and Ladies for being here, present at this Ball. We have gathered here for many reasons. First, we celebrate the certain victory of this great Kingdom.”

The people clapped again.

“Also, we are celebrating my son, Prince Alfred, for his victories and honor in the war. And of course, his nineteenth birthday.”

The clapping returned, there was even polite cheers from some.

“But most importantly, I would like for all of here and around this Kingdom to celebrate Spades. We are rebuilding, picking up Clubs’ mess and returning bigger, better and none the wiser.

“We are by far the most resilient and strong people on this world, and we will continue to grow and prosper. We are the builders; the inventors, the magical and the scientific, and we will never back down from advancing the world. We will push through until the name of Spades is known by every person who will walk on this Earth. We are the Kingdom of Spades, and we will not be forgotten.”

The King’s speech was moving. People started to cheer then, for real this time, and they stood to applaud him. Alfred and Arthur stood as well, cheering him on with their full support.

When the applause ended, the King officially let the festivities begin.

The food made its way out first, tray after tray of delicious gourmet food, and there was a happy chatter from the entire ballroom. Arthur would have noticed his brothers being scolded for eating too fast, or the heavy Lord with a flat, American accent begin his decent into inebriation, but his focus was on something else entirely.

With all of the festivities going on around them, neither Alfred nor Arthur could take their eyes off of each other. It was like they were in their own world, behind glass doors or something like that. It was hard to describe, but the whole time they sat there, eating and talking, it was like no one existed but the two of them.

And when the food finally stopped, the King asked his Queen to dance. They waltzed, awkwardly, because the king couldn’t grab her hand with his injured arm. As more people joined them on the floor, Alfred stood and asked for a dance.

As Arthur was pulled onto the marble dance floor, he didn’t even feel his feet touching the ground. It was like he was floating around, like the Mage of Air was known to do when he was bored. They found the pattern of the waltz naturally, Alfred was a prince and Arthur was a noble—these traditions were drilled into them since birth.

They whirled around the dance floor like they were all alone in the big ballroom, and as the dancing drew to a close, Arthur realized that they had gone on for _hours_ , because the moon was high up in the sky, and the King was saying his farewell to the guests.

Many retreated to rooms in the palace, and some left for home in ornate carriages. And instead of taking him to bed, like Arthur expected, Alfred led him through Arthur’s favorite gardens, lit up my moonlight.

They strolled until they reached Arthur’s tree—their tree, and then they sat down on the bench. It was then that the clock in the bell tower struck twelve.

“It’s midnight,” Alfred said, chuckling a little.

“Are you going to turn back into a pumpkin?” Well, it did certainly feel like a fairytale.

“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?” His smile shone in the bright, full moon.

“Of course not.” He pulled Alfred down into a kiss, and when it was over, he couldn’t help but say, “I love you.”

Alfred responded, and then he pointed into the stars. “Do you see that one? That’s the Warrior, and those three stars are his sword.”

Alfred pointed out each of their gods—the Warrior and the Smith, the Mother and the Father, the Maiden and the Crone, and the Stranger, the god of death and Dark. There were the elemental gods too, the gods of Magic- Light, Water, Earth, Air, Fire, and Storm.

That left only two more gods: The Lovers. There were stories about them, fighting for their love, dying for their love—all different stories, but sharing a consistent ending: They got to be together in heaven.

If there was ever a time when Arthur didn’t understand why the Lovers were gods, he most definitely did now.

And when Alfred pointed them out in the sky, Arthur could hear him stand up. When he looked down from the dark of night, Alfred was on one knee in front of him.

“Arthur, I promise to fight for you until the end of my days, in the hopes that we can be together long before our time is over. I promise you forever, from now until the end of time. I love you.”

This was happening. This was happening. This was happening.

“Will you marry me?”

He was holding out the traditional engagement ring of Spades, a crystal band charmed to fit the finger of the person given it, adorned with a sapphire spade.

“Yes.” It was the only word he could get out of him mouth. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

They kissed long and hard after that, and then Alfred slipped the ring onto his finger.

“I love you.”

Arthur Kirkland was engaged to the Prince of Spades. He was going to be the Queen one day. But more importantly, he was engaged to Alfred. That was what mattered the most.

…

The second that the door to his chambers was shut, Alfred pushed Arthur up against the wall. He kissed him there for a while, and Arthur was reminded of their first heated kiss, almost two years ago.

Except, this time, Alfred didn’t care to hide the marks he was leaving on Arthur’s skin. He kissed, bit and sucked on his sensitive neck, while Arthur could do little but moan. Arthur wanted this, needed this—they had been sleeping in the same bed for a while, but this was their first actual sex since the war had started.

He made a grab for Alfred and kissed him rough, harsh, and Alfred returned with the same force. Still kissing, Alfred started to maneuver them further into his chambers. Alfred’s home here in the castle was large—he had a bathroom and a desk and a bookshelf all to himself, as well as his bedroom, which Arthur was being pushed into. The door was shut behind them once again, and Alfred broke off the kiss.

“Have I told you that I loved you today?” He was being cheeky.

“You might have mentioned it.”

“Oh, well did I tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight?” Now he was going for pure flattery.

“No. You didn’t.”

“Well, you did. You were a sight, really. I couldn’t stop thinking about undoing all these buttons on your shirt.” Which is exactly what he started to do. One by one, he undid all the buttons until Arthur stood topless in front of him. Arthur did him a favor and shed his own boots.

“Or how I couldn’t stop staring at your ass all night?” He ran his hands down Arthur’s back and settled them on his bottom. When Arthur gave an indignant huff, he squeezed.

“Gods, these pants don’t leave much to the imagination. If you’d bent over tonight, I would’ve had a big problem.”

If Alfred was going to play with words, Arthur was going to join him. “Yes, love, I know.” He ran his hands across the bulge starting to form in the prince’s own trousers.

“A _very_ big problem.” He licked his lips, and looked up to gauge his _fiancé’s_ reaction.

Ego and… other things lifted, Alfred’s eyes were dark with lust as he shed his own coat and shirt. He picked Arthur up off the ground, and practically threw him onto his bed. He kissed Arthur again, and made skillful work of Arthur’s admittedly form-fitting pants. Soon enough, they were both undressed and Alfred loomed above him, kneeling between Arthur’s legs.

Alfred’s wink served as the only warning Arthur received, before Alfred moved down his body, his hand around his cock and his tongue at his entrance. Oh gods, how could he have lived before without this wonderful, wonderful man?

Arthur moaned when Alfred’s tongue worked his way into him, and he threw his head back when he began to work it in and out. It felt so good, but Arthur needed to feel his heat, needed to feel stretched by him.

“Ah-Al! Need more, please—‘

Alfred’s tongue was out of him in an instant, but he quickly shoved two of his fingers, slick with lube, inside him.

“Fuck, Arthur. So tight…” It had been a while, what did he expect? He was tight, and Alfred had to work his two fingers inside of him very carefully. It stung a little, and Arthur winced.

Still, Alfred kissed him sweetly on the lips, and he went slow, slower than the rapid, impatient pace they were going at before. He stretched those fingers until Arthur could feel nothing but pleasure, and then he continued until he found the spot that made him scream.

He added a third finger, just for good measure before Arthur told him he was ready.

Arthur watched as he put the lubricating oil on himself, finally giving his member some attention.

He lined himself up, kissed Arthur, and then pushed in.

Alfred practically _hissed_ as he moved into him, and Arthur honestly couldn’t blame him—it really had been a while. When he was fully inside, he stopped. Blue eyes gazed intently into green, until Arthur told him to move.

He didn’t go very fast, just built up a slow rhythm that rocked them back and forth on the bed. It felt good, but there was something… _different_ about their intimacy, something that neither was used to.

This wasn’t really about sex—it was more about their bond, how they finally, _finally_ got to be together. For once, this wasn’t against some social standard. It wasn’t secret—Arthur was pretty sure that half the Palace could hear them anyway.

This was just _right._ It wasn’t just lust, this was love.

Both Alfred and Arthur couldn’t keep their eyes off of the other. Normally, Alfred’s eyes would roam his entire body, and Arthur was the type to look away.

They were truly making love.

Alfred began to speed his thrusting to a quicker rate, and his strikes against Arthur’s prostate sent the begetter over the edge. Alfred kissed him and followed right after.

They lay on the bed after that, content to be close to each other in the afterglow. In Alfred’s arms, Arthur realized just how much he had truly missed him, being with him, being filled up by him, and being the one that Alfred had needed as well.

Alfred kissed the new, shiny ring on his left ring finger, and they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Arthur was woken up by an enthusiastic kiss on the lips. He tried to focus his tired eyes on Alfred, but in the end, he left them closed and kissed him back. When they pulled apart, Alfred gave him a cheeky grin.

“I just couldn’t help it, I’m never awake before you.”

Arthur was still half asleep. “Mm—Good morning…” It came out mumbled and sleepy.

“Good morning beautiful.” Arthur certainly didn’t feel beautiful. To be honest, he felt the farthest from beautiful. They were both sort of sticky and the sheets below them seemed to be beyond repair. His hair was probably sticking up in ten thousand different directions and he felt all kinds of sore.

“Yeah, that’s the word I’d use. I need to bathe.” Alfred snickered a bit, but managed to get him up out of bed.

“Good idea.” And then he was pulling Arthur away from the warm comfort of the bed, still stark naked, into the bathroom.

He watched as the smiling prince turned on the water in his admittedly large bathtub. After searching for a while, he located the soap for a bubble bath.

“Are you serious?” Arthur gave him half a smile.

“Of course—you said it yourself, we’re all dirty.”

The water had filled up the tub, and the bubbles rose up, and filled the room with the scent of vanilla. It did look very inviting.

“You go in first.” Alfred laughed an obliged him. And then, seeing him all covered with bubbles, holding his arms out for Arthur, he couldn’t resist.

He climbed into the tub, content to just lean back against Alfred’s strong chest and relax.

Of course, the second he closed his eyes, Alfred poured water on top of him. Arthur practically shrieked and managed to turn around in the tub.

“Oh you little—“

And then he was splashing Alfred right back, and then the two were good and soaked and laughing and not at all relaxed.

When they calmed down, some of the water had to be refilled in the tub. Their roughhousing had knocked some over the edge. Alfred got the bubbles to rise again, and then with a few clever brushes of his hands, Arthur was in his lap and they were kissing, light and happy, a few giddy chuckles escaping from both.

Today, they could afford to take time to be together. Aside from their courting, which was all about formality, the only time the two had to be with each other was at night, when they slumped into bed and fell asleep. Alfred had been assisting his father with duties, making arrangements to receive the other royals and the new King of Clubs, Ivan Braginski. It was customary that within a year of war’s end, all the royals met in order to settle everything.

Arthur had been following the Queen around for the past month, learning to better handle domestic affairs and even some foreign affairs. He was exhausted, so he couldn’t even imagine how Alfred must have felt.

So yes, one could say that they deserved this time. They deserved to deepen their kiss, and wrap their arms around each other, and they deserved to awaken the seemingly never-ending passion between them.

Arthur could feel his and Alfred’s growing erections brush each other and when Alfred closed his hand around both of them, he groaned, leaning into him.

They felt so close. It was so right, to just be here and be with him. Arthur casually remarked in his own head that he was being cheesy, but he didn’t care.

He deserved to be cheesy.

Of course, just one hand wasn’t enough for them. Their eyes met, and they knew that they needed more.

“I’ve never had sex in a bathtub before,” Arthur shifted forward in Alfred’s lap so he could kiss and suck at his neck.

Alfred’s other hand was roaming his back—then it dropped down, brushing against his entrance.

“Neither have I. Would you like to?” A finger made its way inside of him.

“Yes!” Arthur said, too loudly. Whether it was the answer to the question or the reaction to the finger, Alfred didn’t know.

Still, he continued, stroking both of them off and adding more fingers as fast as he could. It didn’t take much—only about eight hours passed since they last were intimate.

When he was ready, Arthur positioned Alfred at his entrance and sunk down on his cock.

As he was adjusting to Alfred’s size inside him, he teased him a little bit, just to get his mind off the stretch.

“You know, you’re supposed to get clean in a bath. We’re—ah—we’re getting dirty.”

Alfred sent him that sexy smirk, the one he only saw when they were having sex or just about to.

“Go figure. Maybe that’s why it’s so fun.” He gave a little, teasing thrust up and Arthur gave one right back. They had a nice rhythm going, careful of the water spilling over the edge. Sometimes, Alfred would lean in and kiss his lips; a short peck, almost a nip, and sometimes, it would be Arthur that kissed him quickly.

It was all light and teasing, and the most fun Arthur had had in quite a while. Very different from the intense gaze and connection from the night before.

Arthur could feel Alfred speeding up and pushing deeper. Things were heating up, and Arthur sort of wanted to take control.

He leaned in to whisper in Alfred’s ear. “That’s good. I love it when you go fast. Can you go harder? Make me feel good?”

He was provoking him a little bit, but he knew that Alfred did some of his best work under pressure. He saw the familiar determined glint in his blue eyes, and heard the slap of skin and the splash of water as he added more strength into it.

As much as he enjoyed making love with him, Arthur really liked getting fucked. Call it un-gentlemanly, call it un-noble, but there was just something about the passion, the rough thrusting and impatient, quick tempo that Arthur was simply addicted to.

He could barely keep it together, let alone stay upright, and he all but collapsed onto Alfred, holding on for dear life and letting his fiancé do all the work. He could barely make sense of the moans escaping from his lips.

Alfred somehow still had the mind to speak. “You always become a mess when we do it like this. Do you like getting _fucked,_ Arthur?”

Of course, he punctuated the word “fucked” with an extra hard thrust up. Arthur could barely squeak out a “yes.”

“Yes _what_?” Oh, Alfred was messing with him now. He slowed down to an unbearable pace.

“Yes, I like getting… fucked. So be a dear and fuck me?” It didn’t hurt his pride as much as he thought it would.

Alfred didn’t waste a beat. One second, Arthur was riding on top of him, and the next, Alfred pulled himself out and quickly got them both out of the tub. He didn’t bring him far, just to the bathroom counter and… oh. He liked where this was going.

Alfred gave Arthur one final, sexy smirk before he bent him over the countertop. And then he was inside him again and taking advantage of the new position to give Arthur all he had. Arthur could feel everything—his strong hands gripping his hipbones, his balls slapping against him in time to his thrusts, and of course his cock, so deep inside him and so big that he could hardly focus on anything else.

Alfred had of course resumed his dirty talk. “Do you feel that? Do you feel me everywhere? Look at you, you don’t know what to do with yourself besides sit there and take it—that’s how hungry you are for my cock. And your tight little hole is somehow managing to take it all. How is it you’re still so tight?”

Arthur managed to groan out an answer. “Maybe you’re just too fucking big for me.”

Alfred almost came then, Arthur could feel it in the twitch of his cock and the grip of his hands, but he was holding on for Arthur. He could feel the coil of pleasure in his own body as well. He was starting to lose it, too.

“And you love it. Open your eyes, there’s a mirror in front of us. See how smug you look while I fuck you.”

Arthur did just that. He looked half a mess and very much like he imagined a whore to look like, mouth open, groaning out wanton moans and broken words. His eyes were glazed over and kept threatening to roll up in pleasure. And Alfred was behind him, giving it to him good and hard and smiling _wickedly_ , knowing exactly what he was doing to him. He was breathing heavy with the force of his thrusts, and Arthur was breathing heavy with the force of receiving them. He saw them both in the mirror, saw Alfred fucking him, saw himself being fucked.

It was too much. Arthur wasn’t pushed of the edge; he was thrown off the edge with the force of his orgasm. And Alfred was a second behind him, filling him up while biting down hard on his neck. When they were finally done, Alfred almost reluctantly pulled out of him, and sunk down onto the marble floor. Arthur did the same, and leaned against him for support.

There were going to be bruises on his hips, and he might feel this for days in his lower back and his behind, but it was so worth it.

“Wow.” It was all he could say.

“Yeah.” Alfred was apparently speechless as well. And then he was laughing, breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“We need to take another bath.” And then Arthur joined him in laughing.

Alfred kissed him on the cheek, and Arthur didn’t need to hear the three words to know that Alfred loved him. He could feel it coming from him in waves.

They could have fell asleep against that cool marble, if they hadn’t heard that authoritative female voice from the main part of Alfred’s chambers. The Queen.

“Alfred, honey, where are you?”

Alfred made a face and then called out an answer. “I’m in the bathroom. Don’t come in, I’m not dressed.”

“Of course. Have you seen Arthur? Because I’ve been looking and—“

Apparently realization hit her. “Oh, um… never mind, sweetie. If you see him later, not now because he’s definitely not with you right now, um, tell him that I was looking for him. But not anymore. I can handle it. Um…um…carry on. And remember, the Hearts and Diamonds royal families will be here tonight.”

They heard the door slam, and then they started laughing again.

“I guess they don’t prepare Queens for _everything_.” Alfred could not stop grinning.

“I guess they don’t. Come on, up with you, we’ve got to get clean for real.”

Alfred gave him a look. “We’ve got royals to impress.”

And then they drew a new bath, with less bubbles and certainly less sex.

…

Alfred had promised him forever. Arthur thought that he could get used to this kind of forever.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Because they were at an age to begin assuming responsibility, Arthur and Alfred were to join in the discussions of the King and Queen with the other royals. This was starting to become a pattern—it started with simple observation, and grew into taking an active role in things. Of course, this was just all beginning. No one expected Alfred or Arthur to have a firm grasp on things just yet.

After all, it would be years before they had to assume the roles of King and Queen. Several years, actually. The King was no older than 50, “still kicking,” in his own words.

Still, Arthur was excited to be a part of something so official. This was something strictly reserved for Kings, Queens and Jacks. Even his father, the war-expert, the ace, wasn’t allowed. In the aftermath of the war, his father had retreated back to London to settle things.

…

It was the Hearts who arrived first. Arthur could tell without even seeing the Red color of their coach, of their rigid footman and of the dressings on their horses. He could hear it in the horns that marked their entrance, in the calls of officials in languages that he could briefly understand.

They were waiting for them at the top of the stairs, apparently a royal tradition. As the three Hearts Royals made their way to the top of the stairs, the King and Queen greeted them in three languages. Arthur wondered if he and Alfred would ever be able to do that. He honestly couldn’t picture it. Yet, anyway.

Jack Feliciano was the first one to speak, going against the Hearts tradition that the King has the first word. But according to rumor, ironically, this Jack had no regard for tradition.

But as he observed the Hearts “family,” he said the word funny in head because none of them were married—these were political roles, not roles of marriage like in Spades. They didn’t have to produce an heir. In Hearts, the three families Vargas, Honda and Beilschmidt had shared control, rotating the positions of King, Queen and Jack for hundreds of years.

As the Jack continued to speak excitedly to the King and Alfred, King Ludwig maintained a polite conversation with the Queen and Jack Yao.

It was interesting to see the differences surrounding them and the other Royals. The King of Hearts couldn’t have been older than 25, and he was completely under control. The Jack of Hearts was so animated and cheery, almost the complete opposite of cynical and jaded Yao.

“It is quite interesting, this meeting.” Arthur was startled by the Queen of Hearts. He must have jumped, because the Japanese begetter noticed his fright.

“Oh, _gomen,_ Mage Arthur. I did not mean to startle you.” He gave a polite bow.

“Oh, no, your majesty, it’s fine. What, may I ask is so interesting?”

“Things are different here. But they are also the same. I have always enjoyed the Spades land. I wish I could see more of it. You are from the English zone. That is a place I have never visited.”

Arthur wished he were as good at Japanese as Queen Kiku was at English. “And I the Hearts land. But I have only seen the Capitol on Mage tours, and little else. Perhaps we should trade stories.”

“Yes, I would like that, Mage Arthur. I have also heard that you are an avid reader. Perhaps we should trade books, as well.”

Arthur thought he and this Queen would get along just fine.

…

Arthur continued to speak with Queen Kiku until the Diamonds arrived.

Oh, the Diamonds. They were a strange folk, all opulence and shining. The Diamond Kingdom was peaceful to the point of permanent neutrality in warfare, and still, contradicting as ever, they were supporting Spades.

Since the Diamonds produced nothing but luxury goods and mountains, they were very dependent on Hearts and Spades for necessary things. Their main exports were wine and gemstones, and they traded them for things like food and technology.

When he had visited there with the Mages, Arthur had somewhat enjoyed the mountainous kingdom. The tallest mountains were snowcapped, and from the high, fortified palace, he could see everything. He hadn’t met the royals when he was there though, and there was a new royal family than the ones he’d seen when he was a child.

“That would be everyone. Boys, can you go fetch the servants? I’m sure our guests would love to get settled.” The Queen was, as usual, always thinking ahead.

Arthur rather enjoyed the servants in the Palace. They were extremely kind, and very thankful to be working there. The King and Queen were very generous with them. If they were generous, Alfred was downright friendly with them. It helped that some of them had practically raised him, though.

So Alfred had no problem marching right into the servants’ quarters, and most of them didn’t even blink an eye at his entrance.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentleman. The royal families of Hearts and Diamonds have just arrived in the palace. We would like to make sure they are well taken care of. I know that won’t be a problem for any of you. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, can some of you help carry their things inside?”

People were actually volunteering. Impressive. Ten or so men went out the door and in the direction of the palace’s entrance.

The servant’s quarters were small, but seemingly full of life. He could hear all different accents, all different languages, but they were all here under a common roof. He supposed that they were all like a little family. And they seemed happy, with plenty of food and wine to go around.

In fact, some children were bringing in food and wine at that very moment. It would have been endearing, had one of them not tripped and spilled his container of red wine all over Arthur.

The room fell silent. The poor boy looked like he was going to cry, and a woman, probably his mother, looked possibly even more terrified. What did they think he would do? There might have been a time when Arthur would have yelled at him, or cursed at him. Maybe even ordered him punished. But that was what his father did. Arthur wasn’t his father.

Arthur bent down to get on his level. “Hi, my name’s Arthur. What’s yours?”

“Ollie.” He was English. He was very little.

“How old are you, Ollie?”

“E-eight, your maj—“

“I’m not ‘your majesty.’ Not for a while, anyway. Why do you look so upset?”

“Cause I- I spilled on you, and they say you-you _zap_ people.”

Alfred was laughing, he could hear it from behind him. Arthur tried to hide his grin.

“Well, my mother told me that it wasn’t nice to zap people, so I haven’t done it in a while.” He was smiling now, and the poor boy’s mother relaxed tenfold.

The boy didn’t look so scared, so Arthur continued. “It’s just a shirt, lad. I can go put on another one. I’m not mad. So how about we pretend it never happened, okay?”

He put out his hand.

“Okay!” The boy shook his hand with the excitement that only an eight-year old could produce, and smiled wide.

Arthur stood up, and Alfred let out a “Thank you” to the crowd of servants before they exited. He could feel Alfred looking at him, and when he turned to face him, he was smiling wider that that servant boy.

“What?”

“I love you.” Arthur gave him a look, and he continued. “You know how some people treat servants. That little kid could have been thrown in a cell for that, and you know that some people would see to it. But not you. So yes, I love you. His mother used to water the plants in the garden, but she got hurt, and now she’s stuck inside all day, cleaning. I know that kid is everything to her.”

“You care so much about the common people. It’s refreshing.”

“What are we ruling over? Who do our choices affect? Who suffers the most from our wars? It’s them. I care about them because it’s my job. But I also care about them because they deserve it.” He had the fierce determination in his eyes.

“And that’s why I love you.”

Alfred gave him a chaste kiss. “You go change, I’ll tell my mother you will be joining us shortly. I think the servants have moved everything in by now, and I’m sure the royals are hungry. I’m hungry.”

“Love, you’re _always_ hungry.” With a laugh, he walked back to his chambers. He always thought that he should move his things to Alfred’s chambers, but he never got around to it. He was very busy.

He was about to enter his rooms, when he felt a hand on his back. It ran down to his waist, and a second hand joined in on his other side.

Why was Alfred even here, anyway? 

“Alfred, I thought you were going back to—“

“ _Onhonhon_ … So little Alfred is fooling around with servants, now? Though I do not blame him, with a behind like yours.”

That was certainly not Alfred. He turned around. There was a blonde man, dressed in the orange of Diamonds. He must be a footman or something, with his little blonde beard in perfect trim.

“Excuse you, whoever you are, but I don’t appreciate your touches. And I don’t believe that any activity of the prince’s is your business.”

“Oh, but I’ve seen all of his little love affairs. They were always so cute. But I hear he’s engaged, and I am in love with _amour_ , you see. Maybe you will fall in love with me, _non_? And then you can leave your Prince to his fiancé?”

What in the gods’ names was he talking about? _He_ was Alfred’s fianc—Oh. Covered in wine, he must not exactly look like a royal. Did this footman think he was a servant?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the Frenchman cut him off. He put his hands back, lower than they had been before. “I think we shall be kissing before the night is ov—“

_SMACK—_

“Just who do you think you are? And who do you think _I_ am?”

“ _Mes dieux!_ That’s will leave a mark, you know. You’re wearing a ring—“

At the same time this stranger saw Arthur’s engagement ring, Arthur saw the golden “K” emblazoned on his coat.

This was Francis Bonnefoy. This was the King of Diamonds. That he just smacked in the face.

They both started to apologize at the same time, for extremely different reasons.

“I, I am so sorry, Mage Arthur. I did not think to know your appearance, and your shirt—it is stained. I thought you to be a servant.”

“I thought you to be a footman.”

“Why?”

“You’re clothing is pompous.” Arthur felt no need to apologize again, and he was angry.

This King bristled. “A blunt one than, how very English of you.”

They looked at each other for a brief time. Arthur immediately didn’t like him, and now he would remember this event for quite a while. It would probably leave a bad aftertaste to his meetings with Diamonds in the future.

“I am going to change my shirt now. When I return, I hope to not see you. This didn’t happen. And you know it didn’t, because you will not be happy if Alfred or the King finds out about this.”

He turned to walk into his chambers.

“Wait!”

“Yes.”

“The offer still stands—we could be kissing by tonig—“

_SLAM—_

…

The dinner table was cordial, despite people pointedly ignoring the hand-shaped red mark on King Francis’ face. He’d heard stories that he was touchy, that he didn’t really follow monogamy, but this was insane. Arthur found it best to ignore his presence, even though

It bothered him so.

Still, he did take pleasure in how he looked whenever Alfred would hold his hand or even touch him at all.

The conversation was more interesting. They had all received a letter from Clubs, declining the dinner invitation politely. The new King of Clubs, Ivan Braginsky was the son of the Mad King, and was rumored to be a whole different kind of mad. But he declined because he claimed that he was trying to fix his father’s ways, and was open to discussion. He proposed to meet with Spades in one year, possibly in front of Diamonds and Hearts as witnesses, and to work out a real peace pact. One that would, “honor differences and promote good diplomacy.”

The Royals at present were drafting up a response, agreeing to his proposal. They wanted to see exactly what the pact would entail, and they did not make any promises.

If this worked out, the Four Kingdoms could potentially create peace for hundreds of years.

It was all very exciting.

…

The royal families were staying for a few days, so everyone slowly departed from the dinner table.

As Arthur got up to leave, he saw King Francis wink in a way that he thought was sexy and make a kissing face. Of course, no one else saw.

“Alfred, I’m _tired_. Can we go to bed _early_ tonight? Except he didn’t sound tired at all. Quite the opposite really.

Alfred smiled, smirked really, and pulled him down the hall, while Arthur glared at the French King.

In retrospect, maybe he was using his fiancé a bit. But Alfred certainly wasn’t complaining.


	21. Chapter Twenty

The Royals stayed for the rest of the week. Arthur made sure to be on his best behavior, even with the Royal Pervert, Francis. He got to know these Royals, got to see how things were done in Diamonds, in Hearts.

And he was happy to see that they were responsive to his suggestions, that they respected his presence in court.

For the first time since their royal engagement, Arthur felt that he could actually be a good Queen for Spades.

As the week winded down, the Royals prepared to leave. Queen Kiku left him with a book and a promise to discuss it the next time they met. King Ludwig, stoic as ever, gave him a nod, which Alfred told him was a good thing. Feliciano of course kissed him on both his cheeks, and said his goodbyes in rapid fire Italian. He smiled at their departure, even looked forward to seeing the strange trio again.

He wasn’t too distressed over the Diamonds’ departure. Queen Lily was all but silent during their trip, but she did have tea with Arthur enough that he enjoyed her presence in the Palace. Jack Vash seemed to be too militant for Diamonds’ neutrality, and he often lost his temper. He also was too protective of the young Lily, distrusting anyone to be alone with her.

And then there was King Francis. He was so determined to get Arthur in his bed. It was sort of rediculous—Arthur had said no to people before, but the Frenchman was so adamant to kiss him, to grope him, and to taunt him. After a while, Arthur didn’t even care. It was just annoying.

He just didn’t want Alfred to find out. Arthur was pretty sure that the Prince’s strong punch would definitely hurt relations between the two kingdoms.

So when Francis departed with one final, uncomfortable squeeze to his behind, Arthur was relieved.

…

When the Royals left, things returned to normal around the palace. Well, as normal as it could be, anyway.

Arthur and Alfred spent the rest of their summer immersed into the politics of the Spades Kingdom. Arthur had taken on much of the household duties, and he found out that maintaining an entire Palace’s goings-on was extremely difficult. He also began working with the Queen on details of the Kingdom’s interior.

As he worked away on land-disputes, representation, and the affairs of the Spades’ people, Arthur also observed how hard his fiancé had to work. Alfred had always had duties around the castle—he trained knights with the master-at-arms, he went into the capitol city to see how people were living, and he often ran royal errands for his father.

Now, his duties must have increased tenfold. He took much more responsibility for his knights and soldiers, and he was responsible for organizing the cleanup after the war. Because of wartime unrest, crime in the cities had increased, and Alfred also had to deal with that. To Arthur, it seemed like he was doing… _everything_.

Arthur seemed to have _some_ time on his hands, but he barely saw Alfred as the season slowly shifted to autumn. Sometimes, he would fall asleep alone in the prince’s too-big bed, and when he woke up, Alfred would be there, awake and already getting dressed for another long day.

Sometimes, Alfred would wake him up in the dawn hours, just so they could fuck, not wasting any time, just to retain _some_ level of intimacy in their engagement. And then he would be out the door, gone before Arthur could even kiss him goodbye.

Sometimes, he didn’t see him for days. Where there were once bright blue eyes, tired, almost grey ones took their place. Alfred was exhausted, and it made Arthur think that something wasn’t exactly right. Why did Alfred have to do so much? Where was the King?

The harvest was among them, all around in shades of brown and orange and red, leaves falling everywhere, and Arthur had finally noticed something sort of crucial—since the departure of the Royals, he hadn’t seen the King of Spades.

So he waited, waited up all night for his exhausted fiancé to enter their room. And when Alfred saw him, waiting there, he began.

“I hate to say this, only because we’ve barely had any conversations since the night of our engagement, but you know that we need to talk.”

And he _knew_ , knew what Arthur meant, because he was keeping something from him. Alfred winced at the suggestion.

“You know, Alfred, you can’t hide things from me forever. We are going to be King and Queen one day, how can we do anything if you can’t tell me what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “I know. I know, Arthur. And you’re right—we _are_ going to be King and Queen one day.”

He paused.

“Just…sooner than you think.” Arthur couldn’t describe the weight in his voice, or the sadness in his eyes. He began to speak, but was interrupted by the prince.

“Maybe it’s better if I just show you.”

And so, in the middle of the night, Alfred led Arthur up one of the many winding marble staircases to the tower of the King.

…

When Alfred pushed through the ornate doors, Arthur didn’t know what to expect. But it wasn’t what he saw.

King Frederick lay in his bed, bigger than any bed he had ever seen. His eyes were open, but unfocused, like he couldn’t see. There was sweat on his brow, and he seemed to have the goose-prickles, like he was cold.

The worst part was his arm. His right arm, wounded by the King of Clubs, had never healed. Instead, the wound had grown diseased, worse than any infection Arthur had ever seen. It was killing him.

“Poison. The King of Clubs used a poison sword.” Alfred’s voice cracked with emotion, like it was the first time that he had said it out loud.

Arthur couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t even think.

Alfred continued, although it must have hurt to say. “He’s unresponsive. He can’t see. Can’t hear. Seizures. We don’t know how long he has be-before—“

“Oh, love. You don’t have to say anymore. I understand.” He was prepared at that moment to do anything, say anything to comfort him. But Alfred stood straight and tall. He refused to show weakness.

That moment had to be harder than war, harder than anything. But for the first time, Alfred looked like a King.

…

New knowledge gained, Arthur was filled with respect for his fiancé. He took on everything, did so much, and never showed so much as a hint of sadness, fear, or grief.

He was so resolute to not give up. He really, truly believed that as long as his father was alive, he couldn’t—wouldn’t give up.

But in the end, his hope was in vain. King Frederick did not make it past the week.

And that’s when Alfred finally broke down.

 


	22. Chapter Twenty-one

Arthur’s nightmares returned with a force. He didn’t know why, they’d just come back to taunt him in a restless state. The Mage of Light warned him that the repercussions of dark magic would never go away, that they would haunt him in times of trouble. But now, they weren’t about blood, and rouge Clubs’ soldiers. They were about the ones he loved. Possibly the worst was the almost prophetic and too-real sight of Alfred lying dead, cold on the ground. Arthur saw his own form in the dream, filled with dread and rage, but also _regret_. Gods be good, did _he_ kill Alfred? As Dream Arthur screamed and cried, his entire dream shifted to a new scene.

_“As if I ever loved you. You, with your strange, revolting magic. You’re a freak. I can’t even say your name. I’m disgusted by you. I hate you. Did you really think I’m going to marry you? Don’t make me laugh. I’d sooner bring back Lady Dayne than marry you. Go back home, slut. Who could ever want you?”_

The cold words on Dream Alfred’s tongue tore through him like a sword. It hurt his head, hurt his heart. Suddenly, Arthur woke with a start. He felt sick. He could feel the tears run down his face, involuntarily. It didn’t matter that Alfred had wrapped his arms around him tighter as he felt him stir. Some things couldn’t be helped by reality, no matter how illogical they were. He got out of bed and walked over to a chair not too far away, and buried his hands in his face.

Alfred was agitated enough by Arthur’s vacancy that he arose from the bed as well. He walked up to Arthur’s chair, as he had dubbed it long ago—Arthur always used to to read his books and letters—and wrapped his arms around him from behind.

He whispered, “You know, I always know when you get out of bed. I don’t think I can sleep without you next to me anymore. What’s wrong, honey.”

Arthur gave him an exasperated look at “honey,” but he saved the remarks for later.

“I-it’s nothing, love. I’m fine.” Truth be told, he _wasn’t_ fine, but he didn’t want Alfred to feel obligated to comfort him. It was Alfred who needed the comforting.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

Alfred came around to the front of the chair and kneeled beside him. He put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “Arthur, I know what you’re trying to do. Please, don’t. You can’t ignore yourself because you think other people are dealing with worse. You know what these dreams do to you. Do you think I could live with myself if I ignored your pain for mine? We can help each other.”

Arthur smiled, just a little. “Well I suppose…”

“Isn’t that the point of marriage?”

“Oh, don’t be daft. The point of marriage is to have children and argue. And maybe sometimes have sex.”

Alfred held back a laugh. “Well, we’ve got _one_ covered.” He kissed his cheek. “Now, tell me all about your dream, please.”

With a sigh, he began.

…

Of course, Alfred needed some more help than Arthur.

Arthur never thought he would see someone as strong as Alfred cry. He knew that princes, even kings had moments of weakness, but it was just so hard to see. Even worse, he didn’t know how to make it better.

Of course, there was so much _pressure_ on Alfred, so much that was expected. And the pressure wasn’t just in his position; it was in his entire life. Now, he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, he couldn’t afford to fumble or to choose wrong. Spades was still recovering, and with the absence of a King, there was the chance that things would start to lose control.

Everything had changed. Arthur and Alfred hadn’t been in a hurry to get married, they just wanted to solidify their engagement. Now, they would have to rush into it. Arthur thought that they would be married before their coronation, now it would happen at the same time. He didn’t know how they could adjust to being married and ruling at the same time. And a child was involved somewhere in there as well. Arthur wasn’t ready for that.

But as nervous and shaky as he was, he tried to comfort his fiancé. Everyone was upset. Jack Yao was a quiet and personal man, still, Arthur could see the grief on his face, see the emotions that he tried to hide. Yao had begun his job a little while after Frederick had taken on the throne, and they learned together how to rule.

The Queen and King were never inclined to romance, but their child had made them care deeply for each other, the closest of friends. It was why the Queen had been so supportive of them—she never got the chance to fall in love. Still, she grieved for the man who had been her other half, her partner for better or worse.

But Alfred, Alfred was broken. He didn’t like to talk about it, but Arthur could tell that he was a mess of emotions. Here was the man who had hit him, who had shouted and screamed and generally abused him. But it was also his King, who had taught him how to be King, how to succeed in the world of royalty. But most of all, it was his father, who finally saw him succeeding, and told him that he was proud, for the first time.

Alfred didn’t know what to think. And Arthur couldn’t think for him. He could only tell him that it would be all right. He could only hold him close while he sobbed, shaking in his arms. He could only watch, and remember that, for all of his power and all of his strength, this King-to-be was only nineteen. Barely adult himself, and yet, he needed to be crowned as soon as possible.

It was too much.

…

But finally, Alfred was ready to talk. In a mess and a jumble of tears, he let it all out. He couldn’t believe his father was gone, almost like how children thought their parents to be immortal. He didn’t think that he could be hurt, let alone killed by other people.

“Knight’s aren’t supposed to fear death, you know. I wonder if he was scared, without sight, o-or hearing. H-he would rather be dead than be weak like that. I couldn’t do anything, Arthur. Nothing. I had to sit there and watch as he… just faded away. How am I going to be a good King? I don’t think like him, I’m not—“

He struggled for a word. Arthur finally chimed in.

“Don’t say what you’re not. Focus on what you _are_ , Alfred. That’s what matters. You don’t have to live up to your father. He was a great person, and a great King. But… we all have the potential to be great, Alfred. Even if you don’t think like your father, you can do things he never could. And you know it.”

Alfred looked skeptical, and all his confidence was gone. It was heartbreaking.

“You will be a great King. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in a year. But, you will be great. I promise you, you will be remembered. They will put you in the stars, Alfred. Isn’t that where you always wanted to be?”

Arthur had figured it out a while ago. When Alfred was a boy, he would look to the stars because that’s where they put the gods, in patterns in the sky. There were all sorts of things in the sky, like the heroes of old who had done a great service to the world. For their efforts in the mortal life, the gods immortalized them in the stars, so they would shine forever. _That’s_ what he wanted. He wanted to be remembered.

 The prince looked down. He held his gaze away for a long while. But when he turned back to Arthur, he was smiling again, for the first time in what felt like forever.

“No, Arthur. They’ll put _us_ in the stars.”

And from that moment, things started to get better.

…

It was snowing in the Capital, white flurries that began to coat the ground. It was a good thing that he was next to Antonio, or else he might have shivered all throughout Alfred’s speech.

This was customary, before the Prince took on the throne, he would have to make his speech to the people. They were in the Capital City, down the giant hill from the Spades’ Palace. If they continued south, they would see all the markets and harbors that the city was famous for. This was the area designated for events of this nature, with a stage set up, overlooking the crowd. There had to be thousands of people crowding the square, all present to see Alfred speak.

Alfred began. “Lords and Ladies, men and women of the Spades Kingdom, I appreciate you coming to see us today. In the previous couple of weeks, the world has lost a great man. And we have lost a great King. Personally, I have lost my father.”

He paused. “King Frederick was a political genius, a military expert, and he cared, so much, about his people. There was never a moment of my life where I felt like an only child—I had millions of brothers and sisters. He didn’t have any favorites. It has long been my family’s goal to treat all of us, first and foremost, as citizens of the Spades Kingdom. I hope that all of you feel like we have accomplished that. I know that it will take time for this kingdom to rebuild what has been lost in the war, and I know that we will have to adjust to make ends meet this winter. And so I applaud you for remaining so strong, and keeping your trust in this Kingdom.”

“There are people out there that hate. People out there who want nothing more than injustice, and war. And I can tell you right now—I will never let those people win. It would be impossible, with all of the great people I have here, supporting me and aiding me every step of the way. We are a nation of greatness—resilient, always growing, inventing—and it’s all for the good of the world. In the stories and legends of old, I think that’s what was forgotten. The Spades Kingdom will always fight for what’s right, what’s _good_. And as long as we continue on our paths, the gods will remember that.”

He paused again. “Someone has told me recently that I will be remembered. And it made me feel better about things, but they weren’t exactly correct.”

Arthur’s head popped up to look at his fiancé. Where was he going with this?

“I haven’t done anything to be remembered. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But _you_ have. You, as a nation, a kingdom, a whole. You are the strongest, most amazing people I’ve had the honor to meet. And I’m proud of you, like I know my father was. As my father once said, ‘We are the Kingdom of Spades, and we will be remembered.’ I would like to honor that, today, and forever more. So now, as I leave you, I would like to share this message to you: There is a place for all of us in the stars.”

His speech was done. Alfred stepped off the podium and looked to Arthur, a little bit of uncertainty in his eyes.

But then, one man began to clap. And another, and another. And there, a woman and her children, covered in not more than rags were clapping as fast as they could. The large audience began to cheer, shouting whoops and hollers, and clapping like mad for their future king.

And then the shouts began:

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

“LONG LIVE SPADES!”

“LONG LIVE SPADES!”

“LONG LIVE SPADES!”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

And, for the first time in what seemed like months, Alfred looked _happy._


	23. Chapter Twenty-two

The Throne Room was in its finest regalia. The white marble pillars were decorated with navy velvet, and the line of carpet leading up to the thrones was royal blue. The stained glass windows cast a glow over the entire room, every color, glistening a rainbow into the celebration.

On every table, there were flowers, in the blue and purple and gold of Spades. The emblem was everywhere. Today, the stage was set for celebration.

Of course, Arthur wasn’t inside. Not yet. They had been keeping him apart from Alfred, apart from anyone, really. The only person he had seen in hours was Yao, whose stress wasn’t making him any less nervous.

He was getting married. It was his coronation. He was getting _married._

Oh gods.

Yao was freaking out for a good reason. There had to be more than a hundred people in the throne room, and more would arrive later. The Jack usually organized things like this with the Queen’s help. Luckily, Alfred’s mother wanted to help, and Arthur was free to daydream and worry and panic.

Deep breathes.

 Yao returned to where Arthur was, at the back of the hall, in a separate room.

“The prince is making his way in now. It’s almost time, Arthur.”

He must have paled, because Yao replied. “You can do this, Arthur.”

He pushed Arthur forward, and when he heard the trumpet sound, he began walking down the long, blue carpet, towards Alfred, the throne, and the rest of his life. He couldn’t bear to look at anyone, anyone except for Alfred.

He was wearing a new, royal blue longcoat, emblazoned with the Spades’ emblem. Underneath, he wore the navy blue military vest, with all of his awards on it. His brown pants were creased and cuffed nicely, and his black shoes shined like the sun. He wore his crown, and for once didn’t look uncomfortable in it. Perhaps it was fitting then, that he would be getting a new one.

As he walked down the aisle, the events of the past couple of years played back through his head. He silently remarked how _lucky_ they had been, how easily things could have went astray. He was hit with an onslaught of emotion, and by the time he reached Alfred, the prince reached out and brushed the tears off of his face.

“I love you.” He whispered. Arthur didn’t have time to reply before Yao began the ceremony.

There were a lot of words that Arthur had to repeat, actions he had to do, and just before the final proceedings took place, the traditional moment of silence for the gods began.

_The last time I was in this situation, I asked to be happy. And I am, so happy. But that’s not what I want from you. I want him to be happy. That will make me happy until my dying day._

“And with our gods and men as witness, do you, Alfred Frederick Jones, First of Your Name, Decorated War Hero of Spades, take this man to be your husband, acting as your Queen Consort?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Arthur Kirkland, Mage of Storms, Third of Your Name, take this man to be your husband, yourself acting as his Queen Consort?”

“I do.”

Then, by the powers invested in me by the Kingdom of Spades, and by the gods, I declare you, Prince and Mage, married, one, from now until your dying day.”

Alfred slid a new ring on his finger to join the engagement ring. Another perfect fit. Arthur put Alfred’s ring on, a simple gold band, encrusted with sapphires, matching his own.

They leaned in to kiss then, sealing the deal for the world and for the gods.

They were married. Oh gods, they were married.

But they weren’t done.

Alfred and Yao ascended the cobalt-carpeted stairs to the two golden thrones, and the prince kneeled on the ground.

“Do you, Prince Alfred of Spades have a legal and just claim to the throne?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to protect the people, honor their wishes, and act on behalf of the people?”

“I solemnly swear so to do.”

Yao removed his crown. He placed it on a pillow, and then picked up a new crown. The King’s crown. He placed it on his head.

“Then, rise, not only as a man, but as Alfred Jones, King of Spades.”

Slowly, he stood tall. He turned to face the crowd of people watching him. His expression was very serious.

“King Alfred, have you named a Queen Consort?”

“Jack Yao, I have chosen Arthur Kirkland, Mage of Storms, as my Queen Consort.”

_Oh gods oh gods oh gods_

“Very well. The crown calls Arthur Kirkland, Mage of Storms, to the Altar of Thrones.”

He took is steps slowly, until he was kneeled before Yao and Alfred. The Jack and the King.

“Do you swear to protect the people, honor their wishes, and act on behalf of the people?”

“I solemnly swear so to do.”

“Do you swear to support your King, as he supports you as his royal consort and Queen?”

“I solemnly swear so to do.”

Yao turned to receive Arthur’s crown from Alfred’s mother, who now wore a simple circlet of gold, with a hanging black Spade.

Arthur shut his eyes, but he still felt it as Yao placed the golden crown, more delicate than Alfred’s heavy crown, on his head.

“Then rise, not as only a man, but as Arthur Kirkland, Queen of Spades.”

He slowly rose, and turned around. As Alfred stood next to him, he finally looked out into the audience of people. There was his mother, and his father, who was…smiling? Impossible. And his brothers, all three of them, wives in tow, and his two nephews. They all looked so proud.

And there were the Mages, Antonio and Marcus, Toris… Not too far away was Jack Feliciano, and his new friend Queen Kiku, and of course King Ludwig.

He saw the Diamonds as well, that pervert Francis babbling about _amour_ and such, while Queen Lily looked embarrassed and shy, and Jack Vash just looked angry.

There were new additions to the crowd as well, King Ivan of Clubs, followed by his newly appointed Queen and Jack, Elizabeta and Roderick. They had met the night before. Alfred and Ivan didn’t exactly get along, but they did agree to peace. And Queen Elizabeta had won Alfred over in her sword fighting tales, which was a plus for them.

And before Arthur could get a better look at anything, Alfred was smiling, and then he was kissed again.

Yao caught the attention of the crowd before they could begin to shout.

“May I officially present to you, Alfred and Arthur, King and Queen of Spades.”

The crowd erupted into a series of shouts, claps and yells of their approval.

“LONG LIVE THE KING”

“LONG LIVE THE QUEEN”

“LONG LIVE SPADES!”

And then they were walking down to join the crowd and enjoy their wedding. Arthur was so emotionally overwhelmed that he could hear the claps of thunder outside, and he didn’t even care.

It was perfect. Everything was moving right along as it should.

Like clockwork.

…

_And that is the story, set in the time_

_Where the shaky peace had broken, between cobalt and lime._

_When one king was poisoned, the other gone mad,_

_Leaving princes to rebuild, to make all things glad._

_I won't keep you waiting, my curious friends,_

_You wish to know now how this famed story ends,_

_I am destined to tell you, yes, this is my fate,_

_That this is the story of King Alfred the Great,_

_Spades most famous king, for goodness he fought,_

_But without his queen, it would all be for naught,_

_For their love was the hope, the future it seems,_

_Their ruling was fair, true-- the stuff of dreams_

_Uniting Four Kingdoms, Spades, Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts,_

_They shared innovations, magic and the arts,_

_And finally Four Kingdoms were practically one,_

_The Land of Cards’ golden age had begun._

_King Alfred was credited with its success,_

_He was praised for his great strength, his courage, duress._

_So when time took its toll, and Peter was king,_

_Alfred was remembered in the songs the bards sing,_

_And in the cosmos, the heavens, the skies,_

_Now it is said that the late great king flies,_

_Queen Arthur is with him, right by his side,_

_New lovers of the gods, along for the ride,_

_It's good luck to see their stars pass on their walks_

_Moving right along, in the ticks and the tocks,_

_For the gods are clock makers, and hope is the sun,_

_Like clockwork, the stars return when the day’s done._

_I hope you've learned something, my curious friend,_

_And I regret to say it, but this is the end._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys. I did end up tweaking small details of the story, and I still love every second of this.


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